I Have Your Back
by Broken Perceptions
Summary: Affection is an easy emotion to be concealed, but when a situation puts those we love in danger, sometimes, that love can be what see's us through.
1. Chapter 1

Chocolate eyes, tainted with just the faintest smudge of emerald, fluttered open warily to the ominous and heavy darkness. An agonized groan filtered through her coarse lips as she vainly attempted to rise onto her feet, yet, the seething burn of pain radiating throughout her body immediately halted the movement. She felt numb and fatigued as her flailing, petite frame stilled back upon the cold floor, her vision swiveling and sporadically blotching in desperation to adjust despite the lack of light. She could feel the warm lucidity of blood trailing downward from her temple, as well as taste and roll its metallic bitterness about her tongue.

Where was she? What had happened?

Just vaguely could she recall partaking in her early morning jog, a particularly flat and safe route that consisted of about 4 miles around the neighborhood. The air had been remarkably gentle and cool in contrast to the intoxicatingly humid afternoons, and with little aches or issues to be had, she'd sustained her lax pace as she neared the two mile mark. However, rather than have an uneventful and relatively calm morning as usual, she'd happened to stumble upon an older man coiled about the ground. Sweat smoldering his skin, face scrunched tightly, she'd immediately stopped and kneeled in genuine sincerity to provide emergency aid. She'd quickly surmised that he was exhibiting symptoms of a heart attack, and just as she reached for her phone to dial 911, she suddenly experienced a tantalizing shock that crippled and subdued her senses. Her body wilted, and her phone slithered languidly from her grasp as did her consciousness.

And now, unfortunately, she was here; utterly confused and wounded, with ankles and wrists bound securely by a splintery rope that chaffed her skin.

Inwardly, she marveled in anger at the irony, at how her naivety and humane prospective as a doctor had resulted in her horrid misfortune. Sure, she theorized, she could've continued onward with her run, and could've remained completely insensible toward a writhing man upon the concrete. Yet, she acknowledged the aspect that in reality, despite how desirable, but incredibly cruel her imaginary scenario was, that the decision would've weighed heavily on her conscious. For when all was said and done, she was a medical examiner; a woman who after tedious nights of studying and completing asinine exams, had made an oath to help all those in need.

Of course, if Jane had been incorporated into the situation, she probably would've insisted that her moral philosophies could definitely make an exception against a sadistic asshole.

Her reminiscing on the details depicting her situation was interrupted by the loud hum of approaching footsteps, which resulted in her breath to apprehensively hitch. Whoever was responsible for her injuries, as well as imprisonment, was undoubtedly returning to continue what was previously started, and more likely than not, she'd have no choice but to be subjected to their callousness. The question, of course, on whether or not she'd manage to arise from this ordeal unscathed was a daunting presence that diluted her mind. For as it was, Maura Isles, Boston Medical Coroner, was tremendously terrified, and immensely feared for her life; especially when considering that a particular detective was not at her side, gun drawn and finger upon the trigger.

And although she could pray and fabricate a mantra of desperation to an unknown deity in hopes of Jane magically appearing, she realized that she was very much on her own. The assault and kidnapping had occurred within the early hours of morning, obscured by the darkness that had yet to be illuminated by the upcoming dawn. And with bystanders nonexistent due to the said early hours, no one would've witnessed the incident; which would ultimately result in her coworker's bewilderment upon noticing her unusual and unrequested absence. Korsack and Frost would most likely attribute her missing presence to a much needed day off, since sadly, she practically lived within the lab. Fortunately, however, Jane would be quick to acknowledge her absence, and immediately begin investigating her disappearance.

Yet once more, the pessimistic voice within her consciousness continued to question, would Jane be able to find and save her_ in_ time?

_She has to… she just has to… she's my only hope…_

The rust that encrusted the hinges of the door to the small room squealed in protest upon being forcefully thrust open, and Maura could feel the blood flowing through her veins still. Her quarry was tall and apparently well built, and although the light remained off, she found herself quivering at the immense silhouette lingering before her. Even as her adversary began to resume their approach, footsteps precise and heavy, she found herself futilely squirming away as her mind made one last plea:

_Please Jane… save me…._

* * *

**24 Hours Before**

Monday's were never a particular favorite for Jane Rizzoli, namely because it was due to the fact that they were just too damn slow and tiresome. Hell, even the term annoying could be an accurate label as well. For over the weekend, a majority of the cops either had time off, or even slackened should they remain on the clock. And such negligence, unfortunately, resulted in an abundance of unresolved cases to be dealt with, whether it be of petty theft or domesticated and/or sexual assault related homicide. To further worsen the Boston Detective's agitation, all present employees within the office come Monday morning would be rigidly reluctant to even peruse the files. Korsack would be lazily situated within his chair, feet propped upon his ghastly unorganized desk, cobalt eyes vaguely digesting the latest news within _The Inquirer_.

And Frost? Hell, he may be loyal and physically strong, but within the early hours of any morning, Monday in particular, he was profoundly useless. Often when striding into the office would she find him keeled over his desk, head cradled within the palm of his hands as his chocolate eyes wearily, yet vainly, attempted to remain open. It was only once she'd intentionally thrust her paper work or bag loudly upon her desk that he'd bolt upright and rouse to alertness; his lips coiling into a sheepish smile as the faintest flush of crimson tainted his cheeks. Of course, despite the apparent defects each one of her officers suffered in the morning, she had to admit that they all contributed efficiently toward solving a case once a fiercely lit fire was put under their asses. And more often than not, without a guilty conscious, she'd be the one to ignite the said flames to spur them into action.

Fortunately, the only employee that was flame intolerant was Miss Maura Isles, the Boston Medical Examiner that appeared each morning promptly on time with little complaining to be had. Ever so eager and chipper, Maura would enthusiastically greet Jane while hovering over a corpse, her gloved, latex fingers tediously sewing up incisions on her latest autopsy patient while informing her of some Wikipedia related mumbo jumbo. Ever politely would the detective vaguely listen, often subjecting some crude, sarcastic remark that elicited an eye roll or a countering fact. A laugh, however, was always shared between the two women before moving on toward more pressing matters, and despite how tiresome their shared ritual could be, Jane lately had found it to be more of a refreshing routine that she'd happily indulge within from day to day.

So with this in mind, the detective had a lighter bound within her step as she walked into the medical lab that morning, two coffees in hand as a testament to her happy and ever so generous mood. Yet, much to her dismay, when she'd strode into the said lab expecting a gleeful Maura, she instead nearly choked on the abnormally strained and anxious atmosphere surrounding the said examiner. What's more, what staggered Jane the most was the irritated, purple skin that clung beneath the darkened, chocolate eyes of Maura, and how such dexterous hands that normally moved with the utmost grace appeared to tremble and languidly dip as if an invisible weight had been fastened to her wrists. At that moment, standing mere feet behind the doctor, Jane quickly surmised that'd it take more than one cup of coffee to arouse Maura from her stupor. Hell, she was even considering extending her own cup as well.

"Morning Doctor Isles." She announced, and with slight amusement did she witness Maura jump in surprise at the sound of her voice.

Yet, ever so polite, Isles pivoted promptly on her heels toward the intrusive sound, her lips tugging into a faint smile.

"Good morning Detective Rizzoli." She replied, and inwardly, Jane grimaced at the exhaustion that plagued the undertone of her friend's voice.

"I didn't realize you were starting to do night shifts…" the detective murmured, the edge of her tongue sarcastic and playful so as to lighten the asphyxiating dark mood.

However, her attempt was in vain as Maura merely sighed and resumed her work, her shoulders slumping under the weight of her tensed and weary muscles.

"I didn't either, but I received a call about a body that'd been found down at the harbor." She responded, and as Jane finally decided to approach her fatigued colleague, she observed the doctor tiredly sewing up an incision upon the victim's throat.

The detective couldn't subdue the anger coiling her brow.

"Why wasn't I called?" she demanded, her voice conveying her annoyance despite the tremendous effort to keep her tone even.

"There was a detective already on site. All they needed was a coroner." Maura told her, a disturbing indifference echoing from her words.

"And you work hard enough anyways Jane. I decided to forgo the call at 2 am in the morning so that you could rest."

In all honesty, Maura's concern radiated through Rizzoli's core at immense volumes, and so strong was the vibration that a sincere smile immediately unraveled upon her lips. Yet, despite how selfless and compassionate the gesture was, Jane still couldn't subside the agitation that bubbled deep within the interior of her stomach.

"You work tirelessly too Maura." Jane countered, and as she set down the doctor's coffee beside the panel of various tools, she herself indulged in her heavily sugared French vanilla cappuccino.

"And by the looks of you, I'd say that you're due for an off day."

This roused a scoff from the M.E.

"The dead don't wait Jane. Forensic evidence that is here now may not be later."

"Well then, just wrap them up in a Ziploc baggy and come back to 'em."

As asinine as the concept sounded aloud, Maura inwardly considered the tactic briefly before shaking her head and chuckling.

"I wish it could be that simple Jane, but it isn't." she spoke, and the firmness behind her weary words confirmed to Rizzoli that, unfortunately, she wasn't going to budge.

"I'll be fine, I promise."

Jane could only inwardly scoff upon that remark. Promises were words cultivated of sincerity, a testament of virtue and will power toward a certain commitment or statement. And despite Maura's insistence, the detective ultimately knew better, for the fatigue weighing greatly within the doctors words betrayed her resolute intentions. However, Jane acknowledged that once her colleague was set on something, little could be done in terms of deterring her from the action. Hell, it was painful enough just to get her to lie about evidence in order to rouse a confession from a suspect! She knew better than to badger, as Maura had so simply labeled it once, since the M.E. was already in such an exhaustive state. A wrathful coroner was definitely not a poison Jane would care to try.

So with a heavy sigh, she allowed the doctor an empty and pointless victory.

"Fine, if you say so…" the Boston native mumbled, her bottom lip jutting out just slightly to convey her pout.

"But if you're gonna continue to torture yourself, you might as well fill me in on who the new woman in your life is."

The snide remark intended to rouse a laugh worked beautifully as Maura did such, her smile, for once, reaching and resonating within her chocolate eyes.

"Her name is Kasey Morgan, a 23-year-old college student that attended Cambridge." The coroner replied in a matter-of-factly tone.

"I thought you'd know since detective Mackenzie dropped off the case file on your desk this morning."

Crimson flushed Jane's accented cheeks as she offered a sheepish smile toward a skeptical Maura.

"It's Monday, sue me if I'm a little slow to warm up yeah?" she groaned, her lips eagerly targeting the cusp of her cup of coffee.

"Which is exactly why I didn't bother calling you last night." Maura stated indigenously, and the blunt yet true comment had nearly caused Jane to choke due to the menacing growl that crawled up her windpipe.

Once she'd recovered from almost drowning from her coffee, Jane retorted with a malicious glare.

"Gee, thanks M, love you too…" the detective snarled, which resulted in the doctor to merely respond with her own mischievous smirk.

"Well, I don't know all of the details, but I can tell you what I've gathered from her body." Maura told her, and the anger that was once smearing Jane's gorgeous complexion soothed over as her brow piqued in attentiveness.

"Give me the diagnosis doc."

Inhaling a weary breath to somehow assess her thoughts, Maura's gaze locked intently onto Jane's.

"I found two small marks behind her ear, which leaves me to suspect that she was perhaps tazed or sedated with some sort of syringe."

The Boston detective leaned forward as Maura's maroon, latex fingers gently lifted the victims head and titled it ever so slightly in order for her colleague to see the vague marks.

"I won't know for sure though until the tox-screen results come back. Lacerations on her wrists ankles suggest that she was bound in order to keep from moving around. Fibers I found left on her skin will confirm what type of material was used once I look at them closer."

Jane resumed an upright posture as she nibbled lightly on her bottom lip, her dark, auburn eyes observing both the data and physical evidence before her.

"So, our victim was sedated and bound, obviously an overused MO for kidnapping…" the detective muttered, the analytical undertone of her words conveying the gears turning within her head.

"Where did you say she was found again?"

"Kasey was discovered in an abandoned warehouse down in the harbor." Maura replied promptly.

"According to detective Mackenzie, a couple who'd been slightly intoxicated and seeking sexual release stumbled upon her body."

As hard as she tried, Jane couldn't subdue the laughter that escaped her lips from Maura's response.

"Sexual release? For the love of God Maura, just say they were about to do the no pants dance!"

She roared, and the bewildered expression marring the doctors beautiful complexion upon her particular wording had only made her laugh harder.

"Well it is!" Maura declared defensively.

"Sexual intercourse between two people is a healthy way to decrease stress and blood pressure, and leaves one with a euphoric feeling of happiness and—"

"Yes yes Doctor Wikipedia, sex is wonderful, I get it." Jane interjected, her hand waving so as to dismiss the doctors sex related lecture.

"So essentially, a drunken couple stumbles into a warehouse, wanna do the hokey pokey, but find the body instead. Are they still detained?"

Her face still coiled into a scowl at Jane's terminology, and perhaps even the fact that she'd been so rudely interrupted, Maura merely shrugged in response.

"Not sure. I believe detective Mackenzie mentioned something about holding them for public intoxication and trespassing."

The detective nodded in acknowledgement before swallowing the last drop of her coffee.

"Alright. I'll go see what I can get from those two. Call me if anything comes up."

Jane was about to walk off when Maura abruptly made a grab for her. Fingers firmly clenched upon her forearm, the detective gave the M.E. a bewildered glance.

"What? What's wrong?"

"There are injuries that I found, that… have made me question what happened to this young woman…" Maura drawled, her words dripping from her tone in a precise manner, to perhaps, cushion an upcoming blow.

However, if there was a punch to be had, Jane was utterly clueless as to what it was as she merely stood there gazing at her colleague perplexed.

"Okay, and…? What'd you find?" the detective pried, and as Maura pulled her forward to the edge of the examination table, the doctor's grip unwove from Jane's arm.

"While doing the autopsy, I discovered multiple rib fractures…" she began, and as Jane leaned forward to observe, her auburn eyes followed Maura's latex fingers lightly trace over the purplish abrasions that lingered on Kasey's sides.

"In fact, so much force was applied, that one of the ribs broke off and penetrated her light lung. Also, I found long lacerations imbedded within her back. The longest two extended from just above her shoulder blade, to the small of her spine. The metacarpals of her ankle were shattered, and all her toes were broken. Furthermore—"

"Okay, Maura." Jane interrupted, her eyes shifting from the body onto the weary identical orbs of her friend.

"Why are you telling me this?"

Maura inhaled a deep breath as she shakily returned Jane's intense gaze.

"She was tortured Jane. This poor girl was tortured."

* * *

Hello hello! I too have fallen victim to the wonderfulness that is Rizzoli and Isles, and after watching all current episodes thus far, I felt it was time to perhaps post something. So, here it is! This story is a spontaneous idea that hit me after watching clips for the upcoming episode, so I apologize if it sounds a little off or weird. Just going with gut here. Read and review to let me know how it goes, and if I should continue on!

All my love!

And Happy Labor day!


	2. Chapter 2

More likely than not was it due to her horrific experience regarding Hoyt that Jane visibly flinched when the term, _torture_, escaped Maura's lips, and with great concern did the Boston Medical Examiner observe a paler hue flush out the detectives normally caramel complexion as her lithe form became rigid.

"Tortured…?" Jane whispered, and as she habitually did when she was fearful or apprehensive, her delicate and long fingers began to caress the scars upon the palms of her hands.

"Kasey Morgan was tortured? Was it Hoyt? Damn it, how would he-"

"Jane, Jane!" Maura interjected, her tone as soothing as it was firm.

The Coroner immediately unwove the maroon, latex gloves from her hands before tenderly clasping Jane's and thus stilling the anxious massaging of her palms.

"This isn't Hoyt's work, I promise." Maura told her, her words dripping from her tongue in a precise and slow rhythm so that her colleague could both comprehend and digest the information fully.

"Hoyt is locked up, surrounded by guards 24-7, with no other existing apprentices. Furthermore, the method of torture is inconclusive to his methods."

Jane vaguely nodded, her auburn eyes transfixed on her colleague while her breathing and anxiety gradually came down an octave.

"You promise?" the detective demanded, and inwardly, she couldn't help but chuckle at how childish the question sounded aloud.

Yet, nonetheless, Maura responded with a nod and sincere smile, her hands gently squeezing Jane's for emphasis.

"I promise."

Jane exhaled a strained breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding, an impish grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Okay… alright, sorry…" she stuttered in embarrassment, her hands unraveling from Maura's dexterous ones.

"I didn't mean to start spazzing on you…"

"Jane, you have nothing to apologize for." The Medical Examiner assured her softly, relief coursing through her own veins as the fear began to diminish from her colleague's features.

"What Hoyt has done to you is both unforgivable and unforgettable. It's understandable that certain instances, whether through context or actual occurrence, can trigger the traumatic experience."

Despite how true and grave Maura's words were, Jane couldn't subdue the laughter that crawled up her windpipe.

"Good to know Doctor Phil, I'll keep that both in mind and out of conversation." The detective chuckled, which only elicited an eye roll from the doctor.

"You always do that…" Maura sighed, her head shaking as she pivoted her body back in the direction of the examination table.

Jane, bewildered as she usually became sometimes within her colleague's presence, could only quirk her brow at the cryptic comment.

"Do _what_?"

"_That_!"

"That _what_ Maura?" Jane challenged, her sharp tone conveying her annoyance as to what exactly the medical examiner was trying to explain.

Maura, equally vexed by the detective's apathetic behavior, once again swiveled toward her in frustration.

"That diffusion technique you always use to conceal your feelings!" the coroner thundered, and for once, it was Jane that stood in astonishment at the fact that the normally tranquil and collected doctor had just snapped at her.

"You always use sarcasm or anger to push those who care about you away. It's like a wall, stronger than that of any structure on the face of the planet! It's okay to be scared Jane, to be upset, to _cry_ when you should! Yet you always swallow it down and keep a straight face. Why do you always have to be so _strong_ all the time!"

Chest heaving, and skin flushed and slightly dampened due to the unexpected force behind her outburst, Maura inhaled a pacifying breath as her eyes fluttered close in remorse.

"Jane, I'm sorry, I didn't…" she mumbled, and her hand extended upward so that her fingers could clasp the bridge of her nose to perhaps restrain her frustration.

"I didn't mean to go off on you. I'm just tried, very,_ very_ tired…"

For the most part, Jane merely stood there dumbfounded, her coarse lips slightly ajar.

"It's okay…" she replied in uncertainty, though in all honesty, her thoughts were still desperately trying to decipher the concept hidden within Maura's words.

"I mean… have you _always_ felt like that?"

The doctor's fingers slowly unwove and descended from her face before allowing her chocolate eyes to focus back onto her colleague.

"Jane, you're a very strong and resilient woman." Maura began, and the sincerity and admiration within the medical examiner's tone was enough for Jane to slightly flush at her words.

"No matter what happens to you, whether it deals with your family or work, you always manage to collect yourself and press on forward. It's just, lately, with all this Hoyt business, I worry about you. I worry that you're not sleeping or eating, that you're stressed or anxious. I know you put up a tough front to keep other's from hovering over you, but… I just wish that you'd open up sometimes and let yourself grieve or be sad. It's not healthy to keep all that bottled up."

As soon as Maura acknowledged the reality that she'd revealed the inner turmoil surrounding that of her colleague to Jane, she immediately felt silly, and perhaps even a little, dare she say it, stupid. For when considering the insanity and hectic chaos that the Boston detective experienced on a daily basis, Jane was very much in control of her life within most aspects. She was prompt to arrive to work on time and whenever she was called in; she bought her own groceries, cooked, with difficulty however, her own food, and even provided for her unexpected roommate Joe Friday; hell, she even managed to make time for her family, and late evening drinks at the bar with Maura! In all, Jane was very much an independent, healthy, beautiful, and wonderful young woman that audaciously took the initiative to protect the citizens of Boston from the monsters that lurked within the nooks and crannies of the cities shadows.

So, why in the world did the Boston Coroner always feel the need to be so concerned and apprehensive when Jane was on a mission, whether it be on the frontlines of the conflict, or at the core of the matter undercover?

Maura was roused from her inner deliberation when she felt Jane's hands firmly clasp her broad shoulders, the detectives auburn and intense gaze intimidating her own, and thus resulting in her eyes to veer downward from the detective's gorgeous face.

"M, look at me." Jane demanded softly, and when Maura didn't comply with her request, she removed her left hand from the doctor's shoulder and placed it under her chin, so as to direct her gaze back onto her own.

"I'm touched that you care, _truly_, I am. But I'm fine. I handle things in my own way, and I always have. So don't freak yourself out by worrying about me, okay?"

Maura may have agreed with a vague nod, yet her heart still couldn't allow the issue to be fully discarded. But alas, for Jane's sake, perhaps she'd able to control her apprehensiveness better.

"You know I'm always here for you, right?" she whispered gently, and she couldn't subdue the warmth of tears gathering within her chocolate eyes.

"I mean, I know I'm inept at social interactions, and emotions aren't always 100 percent interpretable, but—"

Jane chuckled as she surprised Maura by lulling her within her embrace, thus both effectively and efficiently quelling the doctor's emotional rant.

"I know you are M, as I am for you." The detective responded, and she briefly caressed the weary muscles within Maura's back for a few minutes before dismantling their hug.

"Now, are we all good here? Can we put all this emotional shit back in the closet for a bit?"

The medical coroner nodded and daintily cleansed her eyes of any remaining tears with a smile.

"Of course, Detective Rizzoli. We do have a homicide on our hands."

Jane's auburn eyes rolled at the use of formalities, yet portrayed a whimsical grin of her own.

"A grim one at that. What else leads you to think that Kasey was tortured?"

Maura noticed the disdainful click of Jane's tongue upon uttering the vulgar term, however, mentioned nothing of it as the focus was shifted back onto that of the corpse on the examination table.

"Catabolysis, which is the process of the body breaking down muscles and other tissues in order to keep vital systems working, such as the nervous system, is the result of starvation—"

"—which suggests that she was starved? Why?"

"When a person is deprived of food over long periods of time, they become fatigued and weak, and are unable to move successfully on their own. The body also becomes less intolerant to disease and physical harm."

Jane grimaced, yet regardless, hummed in acknowledgement.

"So whoever kidnapped our victim was also starving her so that she was disoriented and weak." She murmured, and once the accumulated data began connecting within her thoughts, she gazed horrified toward an oblivious Maura.

"They wanted Kasey to be too weak to fight back…"

* * *

The tediously long and intimate conversation with Maura having ignited her drive, Jane immediately returned upstairs to her desk in the bullpen to peruse Kasey's case file. Just as the Boston Medical Coroner had verified, Kasey's body had been discovered by a drunken couple at about approximately 1:30 am late Sunday evening, at an old fishery warehouse down at the harbor. Two days prior, her mother, Evelyn Morgan, a local nurse employed at St. Luke's Medical Hospital, reported her daughter missing when she'd failed to come home Friday night. Interrogations with roommates and individuals on campus supported the fact that Kasey had been seen leaving her dorm, yet none could say if she'd made it to her Honda Civic parked in the student lot. Lack of security cameras within the area also couldn't prove this, despite the fact that the car was missing along with Kasey.

Jane figured a search for the young woman's license plate number could more than likely allow the car to be found eventually, since she surmised that the kidnapping probably transpired as Kasey was attempting to get into her vehicle. The suspect most likely sedated the Cambridge student before using the Honda as transportation to get the warehouse, and then proceeded to dispose of it at an abandoned field or dump afterward. Rizzoli could only shake her head and gaze at Kasey's photo in sadness as her mind could barely fathom the horror and anguish the young blue eyed, brunette went through within her last 48 hours of life. She was so young, so eager and intelligent, her skills blossoming within their final stages as a college Junior one year shy of graduating.

She should still be alive now, relaxing at home within the company of her mother, and absorbing the abundance of free time before shifting her attention back onto meticulous hours of studying and getting homework completed. It just wasn't fair, how cruel life could be, and in all her years as a Boston Detective, Jane just still couldn't comprehend the callousness and sadistic ways of people. It honestly sickened her to no end, more so than the corpses that Maura would receive down at the morgue.

"Checking out a case file?" Barry's voice questioned, and Rizzoli nearly jumped out of her seat upon the intrusive sound.

Yet if Frost had gained satisfaction from surprising his colleague, he didn't portray it as he continued to gaze at her curiously with his caramel eyes, his head cradled within the palms of his hands.

"Yes, especially since your lazy ass wasn't going to." She replied, and inwardly she chuckled at the crimson flushing her partner's skin.

"Hey now, you wear the pants in this partnership, not me!" he countered with a mischievous grin, which this time resulted in Jane to openly laugh.

"Wherever you go, I follow."

"Excellent, it's good to know that I've got an obedient lapdog at my disposal." Rizzoli jested, and ever polite and courteous, Barry nodded in agreement to her suggestion in good humor.

"However, to be both completely serious and honest, we've got a nasty homicide on our hands. And I intend to catch this sadistic bastard."

Frost grimaced in disdain as he clicked his tongue.

"Who's the victim?"

"Her name is Kasey Morgan, a 23-year-old that was discovered last night in an abandoned warehouse down at the harbor. According to Maura, she was starved and tortured."

As she'd expected, Barry paled at the vulgar details, yet astonishingly, managed to keep his breakfast down.

"We got any witnesses?"

"Friends and college students verified seeing her leave her room Friday night, but they can't say if she made it to the car safely. The only lead we have is the drunken couple that discovered the body."

Frost chuckled vaguely as those weary caramel eyes rolled.

"Of course, and I doubt they know much." He responded, which roused an aggravated growl from Jane.

"Well they better, because they're the only concrete thing I have currently." The Boston detective snarled, and as she rose out of her chair, she grabbed the vanilla folder containing all the material from the crime scene.

"So before they get too comfortable, let's go see what this lucky couple has to say."

* * *

Yes, I'm aware that this chapter is shorter than the last one, but I figure a little bit at a time will keep the suspense and intrigue in check. ;)

A sincere and special thanks to the following that reviewed:

-System D Rail

-heatwave 16

-andrella07

-LuvinYuri87

-RedTheMagicFairy

-Yoto-Ziva-Blye

-goladyvols

-Tivo2Live

-Felonee

-LAH40

-darkemberdagger

I am oh-so-happy that you all like this little spontaneous idea that hit me not to long ago. And I, ever so eager to please, will continue to update to the best of my abilities so that everyone will be happy.

Don't forget, new episode coming Monday at 10 on TNT. SO FRICKIN EXCITED! :D

Read and review, and let me know if you like where this is headed!

Happy Labor Day!

All my love!


	3. Chapter 3

When Mirena Baker and her girlfriend Karissa King had departed from the lesbian bar _Merch_ heavily intoxicated at about midnight, neither could even have fathomed the depth of insanity or horror that would await their alcoholic induced stupors. Hell, perhaps even sober would they still have been unprepared for the vulgar sigh of Kasey Morgan lying there upon the cold and dirt corroded floor; blood cascading from the incision on her throat and other various wounds. Yet, at the time, the two women were only humoring Karissa's _adventurous_ side, a persona that only became increasingly more detrimental when liquor was coursing through her veins. And with the need for intimacy and sexual release dominating the concepts of logic and reason, neither was hesitant to venture out onto dark and ominous streets of Boston in order to acquire some privacy.

How exactly two highly intoxicated lesbians had managed to drive down in Mirena's crimson, Chrysler Sebring toward the harbor without committing vehicular homicide was beyond Jane's level of comprehension. However, despite the two women's ridiculously profound luck, the alcohol diluting their rationality had failed to assess how to brake correctly, which explained why at the crime scene, the Chrysler had quite literally crippled the doors to the warehouse. Yet, if either woman had felt even the slightest bit guilty about the trespassing, it didn't show as Karissa and Mirena merely proceeded to stagger out of the Sebring; their lips and fingers attacking each other feverishly. Unfortunately, their ravenous passion was interrupted briefly after the couple had tumbled into the building, Mirena's gazehaving detected first Kasey's body lying in a pool of blood.

From there, one can only surmise how quickly the two women sobered up before alerting the authorities.

Jane grimaced and prattled her fingers impatiently upon the stainless, cold steel of the interrogation table as she listened to the couple's grievances. As terribly as she yearned for a prime suspect to focus all her energy onto within this investigation, she acknowledged the reality with frustration that ultimately, these two young women were innocent. She could support her conclusion with the way they quivered and held onto each other desperately, along with the fear and disgust etching the creases in their features. With tremendous shame did they confess to driving while intoxicated, as well as damaging and trespassing on private property, and gladly would they pay the fine. However, they swore up and down to the Great Lord Jesus, and any other deity of equal, holy standing, that they were innocent. And with little to nonexistent evidence to show their involvement within the murder, Rizzoli had no choice but to simply allow Frost to escort them toward the brass to sort out the fine issues, and let them be.

The Boston Detective heaved an aggravated sigh as she strode back into the bullpen, the expectance of finding the office deserted due to lunch hour shattered by the presence of Maura sitting in her desk chair.

"Why hello Miss Isles…" Jane spoke, her exasperation immediately withering into concern as she noticed the irritated, dark skin beneath Maura's eyes becoming more pronounced.

"What brings you to my lovely abode?"

The Medical Examiner faintly chuckled before standing upward to allow the detective back her seat.

"Was just curious to see how the interrogation went…" she answered, although the words became slurred by the yawn that escaped her lips.

Maura proceeded to sit herself down comfortably on the edge of Rizzoli's desk as Jane gladly took the initiative to sit herself.

"Well, if you consider a Paducah native lesbian screaming, 'I didunt do iiiittt!' a convincing argument, then I'd say we're out of leads…" The Boston native mumbled in irritation, and the medical coroner couldn't subdue the grimace crinkling her own face.

"Then I suppose you're not going to get any happier with the information I have for you." Maura stated solemnly, and upon her words, Jane's brow quirked in confusion.

"Why? What's up?"

"Well, further examination of the body has, unfortunately, yielded and supported the suspicion that Kasey Morgan was raped." The Medical Examiner replied grievously, and immediately did she witness the agitation and horror seethe through Jane's complexion.

"She was _what_!"The detective roared, and the venomous and blatant rage present within her tone was enough to rouse chills upon Maura's skin.

Yet, nonetheless, she reaffirmed her answer with a vague nod.

"A torn hymen is responsible for a small portion of the blood found at the crimes scene…" the doctor continued, and the infuriation marring Jane's beautiful features receded into that of shock and sadness.

"She was a virgin…" Rizzoli whispered ruefully, and by extending her hands upward, she allowed her scarred palms to cradle her face.

"That poor girl… the torment she went through… I can't even begin to imagine…"

Doctor Isles exhaled a weary sigh before concurring with a chaste nod to Jane's statement.

"And I have even more bad news…"

This resulted in the detective to immediately snap her head upward as her gaze focused in dread upon her colleague attentively.

"Upon sewing up the incision on Kasey's neck, I noticed an irregularity." The Medical Coroner began, and by retrieving a photo from the interior pocket of her lab coat, she showed Jane the sewn cut upon the girl's neck.

"Do you see how the laceration titters off to the side, rather than straight across?"

Rizzoli, who'd been intensely scrutinizing the grotesque picture, nodded.

"I have reason to believe that a distraction must have caused our suspect to lose focus."

The detective hummed in acknowledgement before reclining back into her chair.

"Are you sure the guy just didn't get sloppy?" she ventured, her hands delicately weaving together and resting upon her stomach.

"Perhaps he got lazy after tirelessly raping and beating the shit out her."

Maura's tongue clicked in disdain while her head shook.

"_Language_ Jane." The doctor admonished sternly, which elicited an eye roll from Jane.

"And it's not probable. All other injuries inflicted upon Kasey, as well as the starvation tactics, leave me to suspect that this person knew what they were doing."

Rizzoli growled and muttered inaudible curses under her breath while Maura's retrieved and cradled Kasey's photo into her lap; her brow coiling as she analyzed the jaded pixels depicting the morbid wound.

"I find it so odd that the incision was executed so quickly and imprecise..." Maura muttered pensively, more or less discussing the inconsistency with herself whilst Jane had stopped her crude language and merely listened.

"The suspect took his time causing Kasey pain and discomfort. Why rush the climax?"

The Medical Examiner may have been dumbfounded, yet upon hearing the words slither from the doctors coarse lips, Jane had immediately lurched upward within her seat; the gears concealed behind her rigid features having already conjured an explanation.

"_The lesbians_!" the detective declared, and slightly startled by her outburst, Isles brow quirked in confusion toward her colleague.

"I beg your pardon, Jane?" she ventured hesitantly, the doctor a little apprehensive to hear the asinine conclusion her friend had somehow reached.

"Our guy was interrupted by the _lesbians_!" Jane repeated, her tone conveying a faint smudge of pride, at perhaps, her ability to accurately apply facts and piece them together.

"Look, Mirena Baker and her girlfriend drove down to the harbor to hook up. Our suspect wasn't expecting company, which is why he bolt locked the door. But when the drunken couple broke through the door with their Chrysler-"

Rizzoli deliberately paused as she gauged her companion's reaction, patiently waiting for the brilliance that was Maura's intelligence to click and formulate the exact scenario that she was.

And fortunately for Jane, she didn't have to wait long.

"—He had to pull out, kill Kasey, and escape!" Maura concluded, her expression aghast with delight.

"That explains why I found torn vaginal tissue, but no semen. Our suspect didn't get to finish."

Jane couldn't subdue the laughter that crawled up her windpipe and escape her lips.

"Serves the bastard right…" the detective sneered, though she provided her colleague an apologetic smile due to the harsh glare that she was no doubt receiving for her foul language.

"That's karma right there for you. Though I can't decide whether or not those crazy women are heroes or just unfortunate witnesses…"

Maura simply sighed as her shoulders shrugged wearily.

"No one wins in this situation Jane, at least, not until the suspect is caught."

* * *

Whew. Another short installment for all my wonderful readers.;)

I have to say, I've enjoyed writing this story thus far. It's definitely a different perspective to narrate through, but I'm loving it! I also loved the episode last night! :D

I'm so, so, so, SO pumped for the season finale! I will say however, that if either of them die, I will definitely be having a beef with TNT, since all the commercials are talking about someone not coming out alive.

You better not take my beautiful ladies away from me Tess! Lol.

A sincere thank you to the following reviewers:

-Andrella07

-BBWSTL

-Yankee77

-nightterror56

-Felonee

-Val-Cb

-Random Dice

-Csquirrel27

-LAH40

-goladyvols

-Tivo2Live

-System D Rail

-heatwave16

-LuvinYuri87

-RedTheMagicFairy

-Yoto-Ziva-Blye

-Alice. Morgan

-darkemberdagger

Please keep reviewing you guys. Each one of your opinions ignites my drive to keep going onward. I only write for you. :)

Hope to have another chapter up soon.

All my love, and be safe!


	4. Chapter 4

"Was there screaming about_ lesbians_ just now?"

Maura and Jane pivoted within their seated positions to witness a very bewildered and slightly humored Barry Frost standing before the elevator entrance; his hands situated laxly on his hips while a mischievous smile had unraveled upon his lips. Both women exchanged abashed glances before chuckling sheepishly, and as Frost approached Rizzoli's disheveled desk, he could only jestingly shake his head at the detective and medical coroner.

"Sorry Barry, you caught me at a very stressful moment…" Jane answered with a coy grin, and one of her hands extended upward to weave the fingers through her thick, wavy black strands.

This elicited an eye roll from her partner.

"Man Jane, I always knew you were bipolar, but seriously…" he teased, and just narrowly did he miss Rizzoli's flailing fists.

"Hey, I was only screaming because I made a significant connection!" the detective claimed, and as Frost's caramel eyes veered toward the more creditable doctor for proof, he was astonished to find her nodding adamantly in Jane's favor.

"It's true Barry, Jane did make a very valid comment that has the utmost relevance to the case." Maura stated in a matter-of-factly tone, and feeling very accomplished, Rizzoli flaunted a proud smile toward a stunned Frost.

"Yeah yeah…" the detective mumbled, however, it was spoken with a sincere smirk.

"How screaming about lesbians is significant to a homicide murder, is _beyond_ me."

As diligently as she tried, Maura couldn't subdue the laughter crawling up her windpipe and escaping her lips, and as Frost joined in, Jane casted doctor Isles a treacherous glare.

"You traitor!" The Boston Detective hissed, and rising upward from her chair, she lightly, yet playfully, shoved Maura to emphasize her feigned hurt.

The Medical Coroner simply smiled and shrugged her shoulders, the utmost innocence resonating in her chocolate eyes.

"It was humorous Jane, you know it was." She countered, her eyes following Jane's lithe form walking toward and reaching the coffee maker on the opposite side of the room.

"After all, it's not often you hear detectives screaming about lesbians."

In spite of herself, Rizzoli chuckled under her breath while one hand clasped the coffee pot handle, the other retrieving a cup.

"What can I say? Gay women get me all sorts of hot." Jane responded in a nonchalant tone, which resulted in her two coworkers to explode into laughter behind her.

Eventually, the atmosphere withered back into a clam and tranquil one as Rizzoli reassumed her seat with a fresh brewed coffee in hand; her black, flat tops lazily propped on the desk as Isles could only inwardly snicker at her colleague's lax demeanor. Perhaps a bipolar disorder, as Barry had subtly implied, wouldn't be too ridiculous of a diagnosis for Jane. After all, just minutes ago she'd been shrieking in anger at the cruelty and sadism of their suspect, and now, she was fully relaxed and sipping at her coffee. Oh yes. Without a doubt, Boston Detective Jane Rizzoli was definitely the most interesting specimen that Medical Examiner Maura Isles had ever encountered and befriended.

"Maura, stop analyzing me." Rizzoli demanded sharply, the annoyance in her voice quickly rousing the doctor from her thoughts.

Embarrassed at the prospect that she'd been blatantly staring at her colleague, Isles immediately veered her weary chocolate eyes away from the detective.

"I wasn't analyzing you Jane." Maura retorted, though her tone wasn't as persuasive as it should've been.

"I was just thinking in general."

Her statement had resulted in a scoff from the said person of interest.

"You're a terrible liar M…" Jane muttered, her lips eagerly targeting the cusp of her coffee cup.

Isles shoulders considerably slumped under the context of her colleague's words, a profuse crimson blemishing across the skin of her cheeks. Rizzoli realized this as she proceeded to swallow the sugary liquid in her cup, and once she'd satisfied the need for caffeine, she cradled her cup between the intersection of her legs and kept her gaze intently focused upon the coroner.

"Now, Miss Isles…" Jane drawled, an impish grin coiling her lips as she noticed the nervous snap of Maura's gaze toward her.

"Care to indulge me on what exactly you were analyzing about me?"

Yet, even as Maura's lips parted ever so slightly to explain, the loud hum of footsteps approaching deterred the action. Korsack warily entered the bullpen, a sullenness resonating so radiantly within his cobalt eyes, that it'd appeared as if he'd just been informed of some life threatening altercation.

"Rizzoli, Frost, you've got a guest downstairs in the interrogation room." He thundered, and with confused expression did both summoned detectives quickly rise from their seats.

"What, did you find a suspect?" Jane pried, and any if all hope that had been bubbling with her stomach gradually faded upon the immediate shake of Korsack's head.

"Definitely not a suspect, but an important person nonetheless." Vince answered cryptically, and placing his hands upon Barry's and Jane's shoulders, he began to usher them out of the bullpen.

"Wait!" Maura shouted, attempting with great effort to keep up with the trio in heels.

"What should I do?"

Rizzoli, who'd manage to unhinge herself from Korsack's frantic grasp, pivoted and unceremoniously sprinted back toward her colleague, managing easily to meet her half way.

"Look, the suspect had to make a sloppy get-a-way…" she instructed, her hands tightly clasping Maura's forearms as she steadied herself and retrieved her breath.

"Perhaps he left something behind, like blood, pre-cum, a hair, something! Do some digging. When I'm done, I'll come get you and we'll have a late lunch, okay?"

Yet before the Medical Coroner could even fabricate a response, Jane had already resumed her pace toward the interrogation chambers; leaving the doctors body to slump under the heavy weight of the day's events once more.

* * *

"Kasey… she was the light in my life…" a grieved and solemn Evelyn Morgan whispered, her weary and wrinkled hands clasping a portrait of her daughter within her high school graduation robes as she sat quivering across from the two detectives.

"You see, Kasey's father died just two months before she was born. The weather was bad, and Kyle's truck had gone off the road. I…I wouldn't have made it if I hadn't been able to focus all my energy onto raising my daughter. She was all I had…"

Jane blinked away the tears threatening to cloud her auburn eyes as she extended her hand forward, her fingers gently yet firmly squeezing one of Evelyn's.

"Mrs. Morgan, I'm so terribly sorry for your loss." Rizzoli whispered, the immense sincerity within her tone resulting in a weak smile from the elder woman.

"Please believe me when I say that every officer in this office is doing their best to find answers. I will find the person responsible for your daughter's murder."

"Thank you Detective…" Mrs. Morgan responded, and to emphasize her appreciation, she lightly returned the pressure from Jane's hand.

"I just don't understand who would do this to my baby… she was the sweetest girl, so nice to everyone, respectful, courteous. Who could be hateful enough…?"

Rizzoli couldn't formulate a proper response, yet thankfully, Frost could.

"We don't know Mrs. Morgan, but we will find out." Barry stated firmly, his own frame perspiring from the misery that had eloped the room.

"Are you sure that your daughter didn't have problems with anyone? Did she ever complain to you about a friend, boyfriend, or teacher?"

Evelyn adamantly bobbed her head.

"If she ever had problems, it was always about homework, or not sleeping enough. Anything serious would've been discussed with her best friend Kelli Morrison from grade school. They both went to Cambridge together…" she reaffirmed, and while Frost recorded the name on a pad of paper, a vague smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"She was always working so hard. She didn't want me to ever worry about her schooling, bills, or habits. Kasey was strong…. So strong… she truly was my strength…"

Evelyn erupted into sobs upon the conclusion of her sentence, and Jane and Barry couldn't help but exchange empathetic glances while sorting through their pockets for Kleenex.

"Mrs. Morgan, I promise you, we will find your daughter's killer…" Rizzoli assured her confidently, she being the first to successfully discover a wad of tissues located in her pants pocket before extending them to the grieving woman.

Mrs. Morgan gratefully accepted the gesture as her hand was clasped again by Jane.

"We're gonna let you go now, but I'll leave you with my number in case you need anything. Do you need to be walked to your car?"

The elderly woman shook her head with a smile, her moist eyes gazing at the detectives wearily.

"No, I'll be fine. Thank you darling." She answered, her tone thick with the melancholy clenching her throat.

"The best you can do for me is finding my daughter's killer. That's all I truly want."

Both detectives concurred in agreement to Mrs. Morgan's terms, yet before either could respond to perhaps resolutely pledge their dedication to solving the case, Korsack tumbled into the room.

"Rizzoli, you're needed down in the morgue." He stated gravely, and the grimness vibrating within his voice was enough to rouse Jane from her chair.

"I'm in an interrogation, what's wrong?" she demanded apprehensively, her brow coiling in both confusion and alarm.

Korsack sighed warily as his creased hands fiddled with his tie, a habit, Jane surmised, that unknowingly portrayed the detectives anxiety.

"It's Maura. She collapsed in the lab…" Vince answered, and immediately without the slightest inclination of hesitation, Jane started for the door.

Yet, she stopped and pivoted just before breaching the doors entrance to gaze intently at her partner.

"I apologize Mrs. Morgan, I have to leave. Frost, make sure she gets to her car safely."

And without even hearing his reply, the Boston Detective sprinted toward the elevator that would guide her down to the morgue; her thoughts churning in turmoil of what could've possibly went wrong.

* * *

Medical Examiner Maura Isles couldn't exactly describe what it was that happened, and why it even occurred. All she'd been doing was precisely what Jane had requested of her, which was tediously scrutinizing both the evidence and photos from the crime scene to perhaps gather an idea about the identity of their suspect. And then, suddenly, she began to feel horridly dizzy, as well as interpret a distinct, shrill ring echoing within her ears. Immediately, the weary gears beneath her gorgeous complexion detected the symptoms of collapsing due to exhaustion, yet, before she could alert a colleague, her world faded to black; her fingers involuntarily taking her materials with her.

She now awoke upon one of the unused, cold stainless steel examination tables, a very frightened and anxious Jane hovering above her.

"J-Jane…?" Maura whispered hoarsely, her chocolate eyes rapidly blinking in order to adjust to the profound light surrounding her.

Upon hearing her name, The Boston Detective immediately leaned in closer to her colleague, her right hand wove tightly with the doctor's.

"Maura, thank God…" Rizzoli sighed in relief, a faint smile tugging the corners of her lips.

"Are you okay? How're you feeling?"

The coroner groaned as she gradually inclined forward.

"I'm fine… just feeling really groggy…" Isles answered, and the hand that wasn't clasped firmly within Jane's had extended upward to cradle her head.

"I think I collapsed…"

Her words roused a scoff from the detective as her head shook.

"Yes Maura, that's exactly what happened!" Jane thundered, and although she wasn't trying to sound angry, the vulnerability she'd experienced upon being alerted about her friends emergency had left her quite agitated.

"M, I told you that you needed an off day. You're exhausted. You need to go home, eat a lil' bit, and then rest."

Maura had expected Jane's frustration. In fact, the stern drone of her voice hadn't startled her in the least as it normally would. Perhaps it could've been attributed to her fatigued state, or even the fact that Jane Rizzoli was a possessively protective person by nature around those she held closest to her heart. Yet, regardless, despite the absence of a medical license, her colleague had been correct in her assumptions of the doctor needing rest. She'd extinguished herself beyond her formidable limits, both physically and mentally. It truly was time for her to go home and recuperate.

"Okay, fine…" Maura whispered wearily, her head removing itself from the palm of her hand as she gazed resignedly toward Jane.

"I'll go home and rest. But I'll probably need help getting there…"

Rizzoli, pleased that her best friend had finally submitted to her request, smiled happily as she backed away and allowed Maura room to situate herself upon her own two feet.

"Don't worry, I didn't plan on abandoning you." The detective chuckled, and with her grasp still upon Isles hand, she helped support the doctor as she shakily stood.

Though it was difficult, Maura managed a smile back toward her support.

"Thanks Jane… "She mumbled, and just as the two began to move, her knees buckled, legs liquefying into goo.

Fortunately for Maura, the years as a cop had superbly honed Jane's reflexes, and within the blink of an eye had the detective immediately caught the flailing doctor. Sheepishly, Isles moaned in humiliation, crimson flushing her already pale cheeks.

"Sorry Jane, I didn't-"

Her sincere apology turned into a squeal as Rizzoli heaved her exhausted and petite body upward, the musculature of her lean arms holding Maura tightly in place, bridal style.

"Just shut up Maura and go to sleep." Jane teased, and the two immediately began their walk out of lab and toward the elevator.

* * *

Man, I am killing these updates! :D

I simply just couldn't help myself though. My addiction with completing this story is becoming quite unhealthy. ;)

It's quite late, and I'm not feeling too well, so unfortunately, I'll have to respond with kudos to reviews on the next update. However, rest assured that every thought is taken into consideration, and I love hearing from every single one you. So this quick update is a sign of my thanks. :)

All my love, and be safe guys. :)


	5. Chapter 5

It hadn't taken long for Medical Examiner Maura Isles to fall soundly asleep within her embrace as Detective Jane Rizzoli waited patiently for the elevator to reach the lobby. She had had that morning an underlying suspicion that her colleague would eventually succumb to her exhaustion, yet, she hadn't been prepared for how quickly it would occur. For as it was, Rizzoli herself had been feeling slightly fatigued as well due to the stress of dealing with Hoyt and the tragic misfortune that had befallen Kasey Morgan. However, in the instance that Korsack had alerted her of the medical coroners collapse, it was as if an extremely potent dose of adrenaline had been pumped through her veins; she roused to action like the agitated flames of an open fire being deliberately doused by gasoline. Never before had apprehension and fear driven her to the side of a colleague so quickly, a feat that stunned, and perhaps even amazed Frost, Korsack, and some of the other employee's in the office and morgue.

And to be quite frank, Jane herself couldn't even explain as to why she'd responded so brazen and anxiously. Perhaps it was because Maura was the first true best friend she'd ever had. Or perhaps it was because her heart was bigger and thicker than the tough girl persona she flaunted daily. Of course, whatever the more plausible of reasons, Rizzoli would gladly admit without shame her selfless dedication to the well being of doctor Isles; for she was quite certain that if the situational components had been switched, Maura would aide her in the same manner without any hesitance. It was just a mutual understanding of compassion that the two women shared, yet never openly discussed. Jane supposed it was just how things were between them. The distinct shriek of the elevator dinging alerted the detective that the two would be arriving in the lobby corridor soon, and in preparation, she shifted Maura more firmly and securely within her arms.

A relieved sigh escaped her lips as the elevator gradually came to a stop and opened its doors, her nonchalance transitioning into that of surprise upon discovering Frost and Korsack awaiting her.

"You sure make a dashing knight for your damsel in distress, Rizzoli." Vince chuckled, and if it hadn't been for the sole purpose of holding Maura, Jane would've definitely made a slug at him.

"Yeah, and you make an ever expanding waist line look attractive." The detective spat, and the venom radiating in her sharp tone was enough to persuade her colleague that silence was golden.

"What're you two doing here anyways?"

"We came to check on Maura." Frost answered, having taken the liberty of speaking on their behalf since Korsack would risk imminent death for trying to fabricate even one word.

"Also, I ran a back check on Kelli, Kasey's friend. Miss Morrison lived two doors down from our victim in the dorms, and is currently at home with family. Kelli happens to live a street over from Mrs. Morgan."

Jane hummed in acknowledgement while shifting her and Maura's weight onto her right leg.

"Those two really did grow up together…" she mumbled, and her thoughts couldn't help but briefly reflect on how tragic the situation truly was.

"Alright, well, you two make yourselves useful and go interview Miss Morrison and see if she's got anything to say. In the meantime, I" her auburn eyes momentarily veered toward the slumbering woman in her arms before focusing back onto the detectives, "am going to take Maura home and make sure she gets some rest. I've got my phone on me, so let me know if anything comes up, okay?"

Frost and Korsack agreed with a collective nod as Jane maneuvered past them and toward the lobby doors, the two detectives watching her lithe frame depart.

Once Rizzoli had exited, Vince exhaled a relieved sigh.

"You know, Jane really wouldn't make a bad knight." He muttered, and Barry shot an incredulous glare toward the detective before simply shaking his head.

"Just watch your mouth Korsack, or that _knight_ is gonna hang your ass on her wall." He jested, and as he pivoted to summon the elevator, the detective in question merely shrugged his broad shoulders.

"Wouldn't bother me none. I've been told I've got a nice ass."

* * *

The ride toward Maura's home had been a quiet and uneventful trip. The medical examiner hadn't even stirred in the process of being shifted from Jane's arms into that of the front seat; thus resulting in the detective to merely sigh disdainfully at how truly exhausted Maura was. Why the Boston Coroner hadn't simply gone home at the brink of dawn to rest was beyond her level of comprehension, however, Jane supposed now was better than never. For if Maura's body hadn't succumbed to its weary ache, than the detective was quite positive she'd still be working tediously within the lab deciphering the evidence present at the crime scene. In the good taste of irony, Rizzoli figured that perhaps Doctor Isles collapse had been the most optimistic, albeit stressful event, all day. And sure, to ponder such a depressing and dark thought could be considered that of bad tastes to some, yet, in Jane's defense, the guidelines dictating her job hadn't really included that of rainbows and unicorns.

The truth of the reality was that people committed crimes, some of which involved great cruelty and caused incalculable casualties. She, among various others, accepted the oath to sever the ropes of chaos and injustice that bound society, and keep the laws of virtue and democracy a turbulent tide that devoured those of ill intent. And often, at times, such a burden was a difficult one to bear. Being fatally wounded was an acknowledged risk, and there were instances when the sadism of suspects and the horror undergone by their victims resulted in sleepless nights and poor to nonexistent eating. And, as it was expected, there were many instances when Jane would simply stop within the mist of things and ask herself again why it was exactly she dealt with the shit that she did.

However, within those moments of doubt and question would the answer arise from the ashes of resentment and anger. She did her job because no one else had the balls to take the risks and accept the consequences. She took fractured bones and busted lips because sometimes, striking back with twice the vigor of her adversaries was the only effective method of securing a confession and arrest. And more significant than all declared reasons, Jane Rizzoli was a Boston Homicide Detective due to the authority and respect warranted by her badge, as well as the power it bestowed upon her to protective those she loved. She could trust no other to be the sword and shield between that of her mother, father, brother, Maura and the vile vindictiveness of the monsters that lurked within the shadows of Boston. And as long as she kept on her toes, her wits and tongue as sharp as that of a finely seasoned blade, Jane figured she was truly the only one capable of such a task.

And reminding herself of such would immediately remedy her from dark thoughts of defeat and frustration, and fuel her commitment toward her obligation for the rest of her days, without hesitation or regret.

Her inner deliberation had allowed a rather pleasant distraction from the day's weary events, and as her tires slithered over the indentation of Maura's paved driveway, Rizzoli gradually aroused from her mental stupor. She inched her aging and worn cobalt Chrysler to that of the alabaster hued garage door until shifting the automatic into park and silencing the purr of the engine. She unfastened the seatbelt holding Maura in place before removing herself from the vehicle and rounding to the other side; a smile tugging the corners of lips as she marveled at how adorable the doctor looked cuddled within the front seat.

"Come on sleeping beauty…" the detective mumbled as her arms wrapped around the slumbering medical coroner and gradually lifted her from the interior of the Chrysler.

"It's time for you to be tucked in."

* * *

"I just can't believe Kasey is dead…" a sorrowful Kelli Morrison muttered as her shaking hands clasped her crumbled tissue, her hazel eyes moist and red.

Korsack and Frost exchanged rueful glances as they watched the despaired teenager blow her nose into her Kleenex and shift her legs beneath her on the couch across from them.

"She was just fine Friday… I don't understand how this could've happened…"

"I know, it is terrible what happened to Miss Morgan…" Barry told her, his fingers folding over the bridge of his lower waist.

"And trust me, we're doing all we can to figure out who murdered her. Would you be comfortable answering some questions about your friend?"

Kelli meekly nodded while her eyes veered toward the beige walls in her living room, her cumbersome thoughts discovering solace in the various picture frames that were of both family and friends hanging upon them.

"Do you know if Kasey ever had problems with anyone? If someone was perhaps trying to hurt her?" Frost ventured, and visibly could he see the young woman in question stiffen.

"Kasey was a good natured person…" Kelli drawled, the exhale of air portraying the hesitance in her tone.

"She never talked shit about people, or started fights. She gave respect to everyone and got it in return. But… there _was _something that was bothering her…"

Both detectives roused slightly from their lax positions on the opposing couch upon hearing this, their brows piqued with curiosity and the utmost attentiveness.

"Kasey… she said like she felt like someone was watching her…" Miss Morrison whispered, and while Barry retrieved his notepad to record the information, Korsack watched in sadness a familiar mist glaze over the girl's eyes.

"She… she kept getting calls all night long from a private number… and, she hated being anywhere by herself. She started being more anxious and fidgety, and at times, I couldn't even get her to leave her room."

"Did Kasey have any idea who was stalking her?" Vince pried, and any hope at perhaps receiving an identity was lost upon the remorseful shake of Kelli's head.

"No. she tried star 69 a couple times to trace the calls, but it never worked…" came the young woman's sullen reply, and inwardly, both detectives grimaced in annoyance.

"She was really freaked out though. Kasey was considering getting campus safety to escort her around, and even call a detective or something."

Barry hummed in acknowledgement.

"Definitely sounds like a compulsive obsession." He muttered quietly to Korsack, who agreed with a nod.

"Was there anything else that made Kasey suspect that she was being followed?"

Kelli's petite frame began to tremble then, the tears that had cultivated within her moist eyes gradually cascading down her pale cheeks.

"O-On Friday afternoon, Kasey and I came back from our Business Management class, and… and…" a choked sob suddenly filtered through her coarse lips and construed her words, which resulted in both Barry and Vince to wait patiently while the young woman composed herself.

After a few minutes of sniffling and the heart wrenching heave of cries, Kelli managed to fabricate her remaining thoughts.

"W-We found a note on her door… I-It said that tonight, Kasey was going to be _theirs_…"

* * *

"That sick fuck did _what_!" Jane roared, although she quickly recanted due to the slight shuffling echoing from Maura's bedroom.

She'd managed to easily tuck the doctor back within her bed quite some time ago, and with little else to do, the detective figured that perhaps a quick update on Frost and Korsack's progress would remedy her boredom and free time. However, much to the chagrin of both parties present on the phone line, the informational conversation had only revived the detective's rabid rage.

Barry heaved a weary sigh through the receiver.

"Yes, it's true." He replied, and although he wasn't beside Jane, Frost could only imagine Maura's hardwood floor quivering from the brunt of Jane's agitated pacing.

"Kelli said the note provoked Kasey to go home. Probably thought that maybe she could get away."

"Yet that twisted bastard got her before she even managed to get in her car!" Rizzoli hissed, albeit, in a much quieter tone.

"Look, if our suspect was on campus, there's got to be some sort of footage on him due to security cameras. See if you can get the tapes and do some snooping. I want an ID on this savage."

"We're doing so now." Came Barry's calm response, and just briefly did Jane halt her frustrated strides in Maura's kitchen.

"Korsack and I are almost at the campus. Anything else we should do?"

"Yeah, I need you to run Kasey's license plate number." The Boston Detective immediately demanded.

"I want every cop in Boston to be looking for it. Finding that car can perhaps give us more information."

Frost hummed in acknowledgement over the line.

"You got it Jane. I'll call you back later when we know more."

Rizzoli growled venomously as she retracted her cell from her ear and terminated the call. The audacity of this suspect, the complete and utter nerve! To just walk into a victims dorm and leave a calling card? What the _fuck_! Just the mere thought of this sadistic creep still lingering about Boston's streets was enough to rouse goose bumps upon her skin, and result in her teeth to clench so tightly, she was positive they'd shatter. Jane in that moment swore to every holy deity in existence that she'd catch this bastard, and provide Kasey's mother and friends the solace they deserved. For if she didn't… well, she was quite certain she wouldn't be able to live with herself, nor face Evelyn ever again.

"Is everything okay?" a hoarse voice whispered, and despite the hushed rasp of Maura's tone, Detective Rizzoli still jumped in surprise.

Promptly pivoting, she stumbled upon an exhausted Isles tittering just at the entrance to her kitchen.

"Awh, Maura…" she whispered sadly, and with a brow coiled in concern, she quickly strode to the medical examiners side.

"You've only been asleep for an hour. Sweetie, come on, let's lay back down, okay?"

Her hands gently clasping Maura's shoulders, Jane managed to turn the doctor around and guide her back down the hall toward her room.

"I'm sorry…" Isles mumbled, her words becoming slurred by a yawn.

"I heard screaming, so I thought something was wrong…I came to check…"

Rizzoli's lips foiled into that of a remorseful frown before the two women finally breached the inner confines of Maura's bedroom. Jane guilty tried to swallow her chuckle while she watched the medical coroner very ungracefully tumble back into her blanketed abyss.

"I should be the one apologizing then. I didn't mean to wake you hon." The detective whispered ruefully, her fingers retrieving some of her colleague's silk sheets and pulling them upward before tucking them around the weary doctors body.

"But I promise I'll be quieter. Anything else you need? A glass of water? A snack?"

Maura exhaled a strained sigh before gazing up at her friend tiredly.

"Would like to lay with me?" She asked softly, and though the end of her question once again drawled into that of a yawn, Rizzoli still managed to understand regardless.

So with a sincere smile did she gingerly maneuver over Maura before laying down beside her, the detective merely concluded that perhaps some rest within the company of her best friend, would put her mind at ease.

* * *

Whew! Well, that's the latest installment for you! My apologies for the delay, for I had a busy week. And sadly, this week probably won't be any better. But, as always, I will try my sincere hardest to keep my readers happy!

Speaking of which, a sincere and special thank you to the following reviewers:

-lytab5

-neoniloveyou

-breezie531

-Transylvanian

-whitewolf666

-TVCrazed

-S

-LuvinYuri87

-Val-cb

-Goladyvols

-heatwave16

-System D Rail

-Tigrelily

-PumpkinButter

-Bad Girl762

-Karen

-Goose197

And many more!

Honestly, Love you guys! You're all so awesome for taking the time to read this story! It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside!

However, I cannot say the same for the season finale of Rizzoli and Isles. Wonderful, yes. Tense, definitely. Drama packed and full of twists, check.

Not cool?

SHOOTING RIZZOLI AND THEN LEAVING US ON A DAMN CLIFFHANGER TILL NEXT SUMMER!

URGH! DAMN YOU TNT!

*Pants* sorry about that… kinda needed to vent some. I was unbelievably mad after watching that episode. I mean, I know they won't kill off Jane, cause they've already ordered a second season and that show would be nothing without the chemistry of both ladies. But still… just rawr. Rawr.

Anywhovillepenis, I shall end on that note. I intend to update as soon as time permits it.

Hope you enjoy it!

All my love!


	6. Chapter 6

Jane was awoken from her pleasant slumber by a crude vibration radiating down her thigh. Dark auburn eyes fluttering open, a yawn slithering through her dry lips, the Boston Homicide Detective inwardly cursed her inability to remove her cell phone, or perhaps even set it onto a silent setting, prior to her nap. Sighing in annoyance, Rizzoli attempted to shift in order to quell the deafening sound, until she discovered herself within a rather compromising position. Nestled into her side was that of Medical Examiner Maura Isles; the chocolate wisps of her strands lingering beneath that of her cleft chin, her head cradled by that of Jane's chest. Along with the lavender aroma hazing the inner hairs of her nostrils due to their unprecedented closeness, Rizzoli also detected the strong clasp of the doctor's arm about her waist, which thus held her firmly in place.

Had it not been for the sole purpose of answering her phone, Jane wouldn't have even bothered to move. For as it was, the entire gesture that had been unintentionally composed out of utter innocence and the subconscious desire for contact was, within itself, both quite endearing and comfortable. And for the adamantly anti-cuddling detective to even admit so was a feat, especially considering that despite all efforts of maintaining professionalism with her colleague, still appeared to be nonexistent at times. Perhaps it was due to the fact that after keeping their defenses raised all day, it was easier to lower them around each other out of trust and security. Or, perhaps it was because eating, drinking, working, and sleeping beside each other had become that of a habitual routine.

And for Jane, it was quite odd feeling such a profound and insatiable need to be beside the doctor. She couldn't even begin to fathom why it was when she was within Maura's company, she felt safe, relaxed, and dare she even say it, happy. Something about the medical examiners quirky, intelligent demeanor always managed to ignite her heart rampant with the flames of warmth and passion; whether it was caused by her rabid Wikipedia lectures, or even the way her eyes vaguely squinted, with her lower lip jutting forward to convey an adorable pout when she was confused. Jane could only surmise that it was the mysterious, unknown qualities of her colleague that enticed such wonder and the desire to devour every second of Maura's persona when she was within her presence. As stated and emphasized before, it was _definitely_ strange.

Yet, Jane made no such effort of divulging deeper within the meaning as she merely continued to gaze with an amused smirk toward the slumbering woman cuddled beside her; the insistent buzzing of her phone, consequently, silencing itself. She was very much tempted to simply lay back down and drift off to sleep now that her distraction had ended, however, curiosity always managed to get the best of her. And so, with much reluctance and difficulty did Jane gingerly unravel herself from Maura's grasp, relief consuming her upon her colleague's failure to stir as her hands delicately wove the blankets back around the exhausted doctor's slender frame. Exhaling a sigh, the Boston detective sat upright and clasped her phone; her weary auburn eyes squinting through the dimmed light at the vibrancy of the screen before widening once she'd realized the caller: Frost. It must've been something significantly relevant to the case.

She promptly rose onto her feet and exited the room, her hand quietly closing the door firmly behind her while the other dialed Barry. It only took about two rings before her partner answered.

"Hey Rizzoli." Frost greeted, the weariness and frustration of his tone not lost on Jane.

"Was curious as to why you didn't answer. Everything okay?"

A low yawn escaped her lips as her free hand extended upward and attempted to rub the tiredness from her face.

"Yeah, Maura and I are alright. Just kinda took a nap." She answered sheepishly, and through the receiver could she hear Barry chuckle.

"Group nap time, huh? It's understandable." Her partner replied, and at the precinct Frost lightly drummed his pen upon his desk.

"This job can be demanding at times. It's good to know you're at least taking care of yourself though."

Jane's auburn eyes rolled.

"Yeah yeah, thanks for that Doctor Frost." She jested in her patented sarcastic tone, and she could only imagine the lopsided grin her colleague was flaunting right now.

"Now, can you tell me what's so damn important that you had to wake me up from my beauty sleep?"

She'd expected a full hearted laugh since could always manage to rouse them from her partner, yet instead, she received a strained sigh.

"Korsack and I managed to find a still shot of our suspect from the film at the dorms." Barry told her, and the exasperated drone of his voice made Rizzoli's blood still with dread.

"Unfortunately, all we can gather is that our guy is 6'2 male, Caucasian. He had a hood pulled up over his face, so we can't find out any other features that could easily identify him."

Jane venomously growled, her free hand retracting from the weary complexion of her face and folding into that of a tight fist at her side.

"Damn it." She hissed, and within the spacious living room of Maura's home did she begin her agitated pacing.

"Well, I suppose it's better than nothing. We need to go through and talk with some of the students and faculty again. Perhaps if we show that still frame around, maybe someone who came across this guy's path can fill in the blanks."

Barry hummed in agreement over the line.

"My thoughts exactly." He muttered, and briefly pulling the receiver from his mouth did he himself release a tired yawn.

"I guess Korsack and I can head back over to Cambridge. You gonna stay with Maura?"

Jane's pacing momentarily stopped as her auburn eyes veered toward her keys lying upon the couch from carrying Maura in earlier, the temptation to join the two detectives almost too alluring. _Almost_.

"Yeah, I should." She told him after collaborating silently amongst herself, yet her choice didn't leave her without guilt for allowing her colleagues to take the brunt of the work.

"I need to make sure she won't try and sneak back into the morgue."

This time, her crude remark was met with a laugh.

"It's okay Jane, no worries." Frost assured her, and after providing Korsack a brisk nod, both men began to rise from their respective seats and head toward the elevator that'd guide them to the lobby.

"You two need to relax anyways. I'll call you later if we stumble upon anything else."

Her coarse lips tugged into a sincere smile, despite the fact that unfortunately, neither of her partners could witness her expressed appreciation.

"Thanks Barry. You two be careful."

She terminated the call before discarding the phone back in her pocket, her fingers instinctively massaging the scars upon her palms afterward. This time, however, such a habit wasn't done out of apprehension or fear; it was purely dictated by that of her frustration. Maura had been correct in her speculation that their suspect was a seasoned and crafted one, for he obviously wasn't idiotic enough to walk into his prey's territory and leave his face exposed for the entire world to see. This sadistic psychopath had been very meticulous and cautious in his endeavor to take Kasey Morgan's life, and now that the Boston Homicide Detectives were looking for him, he'd no doubt become elusive and more wary. And of course, depending on whether or not they could assemble an identity in time and release it into the media, he'd more than likely strike again.

That thought alone was enough to cause the detective to shudder as she pivoted and walked solemnly back toward Maura's bedroom; her subdued anxiety rising and slightly breeching that of normal levels as her eyes observed an empty bed.

"Maura?" Jane thundered, terror greatly plaguing her tone while her scarred palms instinctively reached for the holster sheathing her gun.

She received no response, and with her heart throbbing furiously within her ears, her finger shifted and tightened precariously on the trigger as she cautiously stalked around the now vacant bed. Jane's investigation didn't last long however, for as soon as she'd made it to the side she'd previously laid upon, the bathroom door creaked open; the bright radiance of the light outlining the very exhausted and confused silhouette of medical examiner Maura Isles.

"Jane, may I ask what it _is_ you are doing?" She asked tiredly, and upon seeing that her colleague was indeed safe and sound, the detective sighed in relief.

"Sorry M, I kinda overreacted." Rizzoli replied sheepishly, her hands firmly securing her gun back onto her hip after surmising that there was no imminent danger.

"I guess when I came back in and you weren't in bed, I assumed some asshole came in and stole you."

Maura's tongue clicked distastefully in her mouth as her head merely shook.

"_Language_ Jane." Isles admonished, though her fatigued state did nothing to enforce the stern drone of her voice as it normally did when she chastised her colleague for her crude mouth.

"And honestly, you shouldn't stress yourself out. I was merely going to the bathroom. I am allowed to do that in my own home still, right?"

Jane's cheeks flushed as Maura strode past her, her hands guiltily burrowing themselves within the pockets of her black slacks.

"Yeah, I mean of _course_! It is _your_ house! I was just, you know…." The detective paused within her humility, her eyes falling from Maura's fatigued expression before shamefully mumbling, "… sorry Maura…"

The doctor could only chuckle upon her friend's embarrassed, jumbled response, and as she settled herself back within the comfort of her bed, she provided Jane an empathetic and sincere smile.

"It's okay, honestly, it is." Isles assured her softly, her hand lightly patting the empty space beside her.

"Come lay back down."

Rizzoli complied with her request as she unceremoniously tumbled back onto Maura's king sized mattress.

"I guess this case has me a little trigger happy…" she chuckled, the scarred palms of her hands folding upon her taunt stomach.

"Frost said that they found a still shot of the guy, but they can't get much since a hood covers up his face."

Maura hummed in acknowledgement beside her.

"So those two are going back to the college to see if anyone who crossed his path can fill in his face…"

Rizzoli abruptly stopped her informative rant as she gazed toward her colleague, a smile coiling her lips upon noticing that her eyes were closed and she was breathing deeply.

"You still alive over there M?" The detective teased, and upon lightly poking the medical examiner in the side did Maura stir.

"Of course Jane. My heart is still beating, which thus supports the fact that blood is still being administered throughout my system." Isles replied in a matter-of-factly tone, which resulted in Rizzoli to mere roll her eyes at how literal her companion could be.

"It's a figure of speech, Maura."

"Oh."

Jane chuckled before directing her auburn eyes onto the ceiling.

"You hungry at all?"

The groan of hair meshing furiously against cloth conveyed a negative response as Maura groaned.

"Sleep is more or less imperative at this point." She answered tiredly, her chocolate eyes still covered by that of her pale skinned lids.

"Therefore, I am able to determine that hunger is currently a necessity that can be ignored."

Rizzoli exhaled a strained sigh as she lurched forward into an upright position.

"Aren't you the one always telling me that I should never skip meals?" Jane challenged, her dark auburn eyes focused on Maura's relaxed complexion from over her shoulder.

"And aren't I the one that always emphasizes that you should have a normal sleeping cycle?" Isles deadpanned, and though she couldn't see it, she was positive that her friend was gnawing on her bottom lip in frustration at the prospect of defeat.

Silence lingered for a few minutes afterward, perhaps due to the fact that Jane was inwardly contemplating a counter that'd allow her the upper hand. However, if such an intense process was being made, it appeared to benefit her friend little as she heard the bed shift again; the absence of the Boston Detectives lithe body and warmth not lost upon the coroner.

"Alright, fine." Jane muttered in a resigned tone, her arms weaving about her chest.

"But if you can get away with not eating, then you can get away with an **off** day tomorrow."

The smugness of her words, along with the message they conveyed, was enough for Maura's eyes to snap open.

"Wait, _what_!" the doctor demanded in bewilderment, and try as hard as she might, Rizzoli couldn't subdue her laughter upon witnessing her colleague's aghast expression.

"You _heard_ me." She repeated indigenously, an obnoxious grin impaling her lips.

"Your car is back at the precinct anyways since I drove you home. And because I have to leave to take care of Joe Friday, you've got no other way to get to work tomorrow, now do you?"

If the muscles in her limbs hadn't succumbed to her exhaustion, Maura would've immediately, and quite literally, slapped herself in the face.

"_Jane_…" the medical examiner uncharacteristically whined, her features coiling into that of an adorable pout.

"I'll be back to sleep as soon as you leave! I'll be perfectly fine to return to work tomorrow!"

Yet Jane would spare no sympathy for her reasoning, and so with the shake of her head did she discard every word dripping from her friend's lips.

"Remember when you told me I worked hard and needed some rest? Well, this is one of those times for you, M." Rizzoli stated, and as she pivoted and began to walk toward the door of Maura's room, she could hear the doctor shifting immaculately through her sheets.

"I'll call a cab!" the medical examiner threatened, and upon reaching the door frame, Jane provided her an incredulous glare.

"You don't_ like_ cabs. You said so yourself that they're unnaturally dirty and unreasonably costly. Trust me; your Jimmy Cho's won't step _foot_ in a taxi."

Isles groaned in disdain from the reality of her colleague's truthful statement, yet, her heart refused to comply with Jane's asinine terms.

"A bus _then_?" she attempted, however, the malicious glare she was receiving was enough of a response within itself.

So heaving a sigh of distress, Maura collapsed back onto her bed; the grief adorning her expression enough to guilt and lull the detective back to her side.

"Maura, it's not _that_ bad to take an off day, honestly…" Jane admonished softly, her hands gently pulling and weaving the silk threaded blankets back about Isle's weary body.

"I promise that if anything happens and I absolutely _need_ you, I'll call, okay?"

The Boston Medical Examiner merely whimpered childishly in reply, and while emitting a light chuckle did Rizzoli lean forward and place a lingering, placating kiss upon Maura's chocolate mane.

"Goodnight M. I'll check on you during my lunch break okay?"

A weary sigh was all Maura cared to allow Jane as her caramel eyes fluttered shut, and with little else to be done, Jane proceeded to exit the room and leave the house; neither aware that the approaching hours would alter the course of events, and undoubtedly change their lives forever.

* * *

Stopping here. Next chapter will pick right back up where the first began, and things will definitely start to get tense, not to mention graphic. A reviewer once remarked that they loved to see a caring Jane; _ha,_ just wait till you see a paranoid, _pissed off_ Jane.

You all ain't seen nothing yet. ;)

I find myself quite lost without my _Rizzoli & Isles_ Monday's, and perhaps even a bit aggravated because TNT won't even bother to _show _repeats. All I see is _The Closer_ all over, and although it isn't bad, it certainly isn't the same.

I guess my only comfort comes from the _Law & Order: Criminal Intent_ episodes they've been playing lately starring Angie Harmon. That at least makes me happy, because honestly, I love that woman in _any_ role she plays; lawyer or detective.

Anyways, enough about me, it's time to award credit where it is due.

A sincere thanks to the following who reviewed:

-vmikki67

-hello

-breezie531

-System D Rail

-Hoyee

-Goladyvols

-soccerstar 11-5

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-neoniloveyou

-S

-LuvinYuri87

-Val-cb

-Tigrelily

-PumpkinButter

-Bad Girl762

-Karen

-Goose197

-Heatwave16

And many more!

Thank you so much guys for all the support! It makes me oh so happy, and definitely pushes me along. I hope to have another chapter up soon.

All my love!


	7. Chapter 7

**PRESENT DAY**

Tuesday arrived all too soon for Boston Homicide Detective Jane Rizzoli as she wearily groaned, her fist silencing the deafening scream of her alarm into submission. Her lithe body reluctantly unraveling from the comfortable embrace of her bed, she groggily began her walk toward the bathroom to begin her habitual morning routine. It was incredibly ridiculous that she was even exhausted in the first place, especially considering the fact that she'd managed to step into her apartment a little after 8 once leaving Maura's. She'd proceeded to cook and eagerly devour her supper consisting of Ramen Noodles before allowing Joe a quick walk outside to relieve herself. From there she'd taken a warm and soothing shower; dried and combed her unruly, midnight curls; changed into a tank top and spandex shorts; and settled in for an early night of a much welcomed rest. For the most part, her dreams, and even nightmares, had been nonexistent; an ideal that elated her since the confrontation with Hoyt's Stockholm syndrome apprentice in her apartment some weeks ago had haunted her subconscious.

Yet, such a luxury imploded into oblivion upon the demanding cry of her alarm signaling the start of her day, and even as she changed into her patented v-neck blazer and black slacks, she found herself highly tempted to merely crawl back into bed and sleep the day away. Fortunately, however, the insatiable desire to catch and detain the suspect responsible for Kasey Morgan's death was enough to keep her alert and motivated, and without a second glance did she bid good-bye to Joe and lock the door to her apartment. The purr of her engine thriving to life, seatbelt locked and secure about her waist, the drive to the precinct had been just as uneventful as it had been yesterday driving a fatigued Maura home. And upon even pondering the name of her dearest friend, Jane's lips couldn't help but form an amused smile. Rizzoli was aware of how much Maura loathed the prospect of staying home from work, especially because her entire life revolved around her career as a Medical Coroner.

And although the pathologist found the concept of rest and actually taking a brief vacation completely asinine, deep down in her heart, Jane knew she realized the significance of taking time for herself; even if she'd never admit such out loud. Of course, the Boston Detective couldn't harp harshly upon her colleague either, because to do such was highly hypocritical. For if asked to be bluntly honest upon the subject of work, Jane would immediately answer without shame her love of being a cop. She adored the adrenaline rush she received from kicking down a door and having her gun poised; she eagerly devoured in anticipation the fear and cold sweat her suspects would emit within intense interrogations; and absolutely _nothing_ in the entire cosmos of the world could compare to the gratifying satisfaction of locking hand cuffs around a guilty perp. Her career enthralled her within every aspect of her life, and if continuing to dedicate herself to the betterment of Boston's streets meant the sacrifice of marriage and kids, so be it.

It was a perspective of her life that she currently wasn't hesitant to barter in exchange for the enticement of danger; despite how badly her mother wanted that picture, _perfect_ scenario for her.

Before she'd even noticed it, her worn, cobalt Chrysler had stilled before the curb of the Boston Homicide department, her body arising from its interior as the cool breeze bristled her clothes. She'd just managed to stride up the stairs and in through the lobby doors before abruptly colliding into a disparaged Frost; a collage of curses filtering through her lips as her partner provided her an apologetic glance.

"Sorry Jane, you okay?" he asked as his hands steadied her, yet the distance in his tone had portrayed that his thoughts were elsewhere.

She pardoned him with a quaint nod as her dark, chocolate eyes regarded him with concern.

"Yeah, no worries, I'm good." Jane replied, and Barry exhaled a sigh of relief for not angering her.

"Is everything alright with you?"

Frost immediately corresponded with a shake of his head.

"I wish, but unfortunately, we've gotten a call in for another body."

Rizzoli's olive complexion paled while her blood stilled, the widened gaze of her eyes conveying her pessimistic thoughts.

"Do you think it's…?" she started, yet she couldn't bring herself to actually say it, the possibility too much to even speculate.

"I'm not sure. All I know is that it's an elderly man that was found stabbed just two miles away from Maura's home." Barry answered gravely, and quite visibly could he witness the panic consuming his partner upon the mere mention of the Medical Coroners name.

"I don't know if it relates to our suspect though. It just doesn't fit his MO."

However, it didn't even appear that Jane registered his statement as she pivoted and briskly stalked out the lobby doors, determination and dread heavily eclipsing her face.

"It doesn't matter, we'll find out when we get there!" she thundered, and as she stepped back into her car and roared her engine to life, her mind regarded with constant turmoil in how awful this day was turning out to be.

Unfortunately, what she didn't realize was how much_ worse_ it'd become as the hours trudged on.

* * *

Since it was acknowledged within the precinct that Maura's collapse would ultimately result in her absence, Jane wasn't surprised to arrive at the crime scene and observe her lab tech Shelby Meyer's knelt beside the elder man's corpse instead. Approximately 5'5 and slender, with shoulder length vibrant, blonde curls and pale blue eyes, the young woman rose promptly onto her feet and approached Jane upon noticing her presence.

"What do we got Meyers?" Jane asked, although the sound of her name didn't sound nor feel quite as comfortable rolling off her tongue as it did with Maura.

Regardless, the pathologist regarded her with a sincere smile as she extended toward the detective a state ID.

"His name is James Wagner, a 56 year-old-male that just so happened to be taking a morning jog on the wrong morning." She responded softly, her gaze swiveling back toward the deceased male with pity.

"Body weight and muscle index concludes excellent health; however, I'm able to surmise that due to his age, he'd most likely initially suffered a heart attack."

Jane's gaze widened in shock upon that facet of information.

"Then,_ how_ does the stab wound factor in?"

"He was in the beginning stages of cardiac arrest; the constriction of air, the persistent ache within his chest and arm supports the vein clogging and tightened muscles. However, the deep penetration of a blade within his pectorals, which thus breeched through to the delicate tissue of his left lung, is what truly killed him. James was essentially suffocating due to the blood filling his lungs and exerting too much pressure upon his heart in order to circulate oxygen throughout his body."

Rizzoli clicked her tongue in disdain as she exhaled a strained sigh.

"When was he found?"

"A couple out for a walk about two hours later found him. His liver temp indicates that his heart officially stopped beating around 6:30 this morning. The cool weather has preserved him remarkably well."

Though that bit of insight amounted to pure glee for her colleague, Jane couldn't find one ounce of joy within any internal networking of her body.

"Thanks Meyers, let me know if you find anything else." The detective told her in an appreciative tone, and with a hum of acknowledgement did Shelby excuse herself and return back to the task of intensely scrutinizing James corpse.

By this time, Frost had emerged at her side.

"It's kinda odd not having Maura, isn't it?" he remarked in a hushed tone, a faint glimmer of humor resonating in his caramel eyes.

She chuckled and merely nodded in agreement.

"Definitely is. I find myself missing the extensive, Wikipedia jumbo, and the refusal of addressing a red-brown stain as blood." Jane jested, and both detectives divulged within the comfort of laughter.

Their banter eventually stilled however, as Jane once again lulled on her strictly business façade.

"Yet even if she was here, M would most certainly agree how odd it is that an old jogger was found stabbed; especially considering how close it is to her own home."

Barry's expression coiled pensively.

"You think she's heard anything?" He ventured, and Jane could only shrug her broad shoulders.

"Not sure. I might just go ahead and give her a call."

As she had proposed, Rizzoli clasped her phone and extended the device up toward her ear after dialing her colleagues number, and Frost in the background simply mumbled something among the lines of, ' _work finding anyone on an off day_', under his breath.

And that's when she heard it: the high pitched, gaudy ringtone that she could easily identify despite it resemblance to hundreds of thousands of others whose phones had the same tone. Immediately did her eyes veer and focus upon the deafening buzz; her investigation leading her toward a shallow patch of grass a few feet from James body where she discovered, in horror, Maura's blackberry touch.

"_FROST_!" Jane thundered, and the alarm quenching her words was enough to promptly guide him to her side.

"What, what's _wrong_!" he demanded apprehensively, and his caramel eyes widened in an aghast manner upon Jane's trembling fingers cradling the doctors phone.

"Maura, she—"her voice faltered as her heart crackled venomously within her chest, the ability to breathe becoming excruciatingly difficult.

"She-she was _here_! Her damn _phone_ is here Frost! Maura is _NEVER_ without her phone!"

Barry was quick to discern the anxiety permeating from her pores and her tone, and figuring that a paranoid Jane was a poison better left undesirable at this point in time, he quickly employed his calmest demeanor in order to soothe his partner.

"Jane, breathe." He instructed, though the attempt was made in vain as the detective immediately began to fidget in an agonized manner with her scarred palms.

"Maybe she just dropped it during a morning run and didn't even realize it. She could be at home right now, perfectly fine."

Yet his optimism was lost on Rizzoli as she quickly pivoted on her heels and stalked back to her car; an immensely concerned Barry Frost in tow.

"Jane, where are you-"

"Where do you _fucking_ think, damn it!" she seethed, and she unlocked and opened the car door of her Chrysler so maliciously, Frost was convinced she'd nearly succeeded in dismantling it from the vehicle.

"I'm going to find Maura!"

* * *

Although reluctant at first, Frost ultimately consented in joining Jane during her anxiety driven, and anger induced rampage toward Maura's home. Though as shameful as it was to admit, he'd quickly regretted the decision however as he desperately clung onto the worn fabric of the front seat for dear life; his stomach coiling into knots and dangerously contorting upon the sharp swivels and turns the car preformed about the paved roads. For the most part, Jane was blinded by _fear_: fear for what could be of the most exceptional Medical Examiner in Boston. And if she were also to be entitled to honesty, which she was a majority of the time even _if_ others didn't wish to hear her adamantly crude tongue, Jane Rizzoli was also quite _livid_. Seriously, for as incredibly intelligent as Maura could be, the Boston Detective couldn't help but consider her an idiot in regards to decisions she sometimes made.

Did she not know what _rest_ meant? Doctor Isles was knowledgeable of every muscle, bone, and internal and external system in the human body, as well as hundreds, if not _thousands_, of other trivial anecdotes of information. Yet she's asinine enough to deny her body the one vital necessity it needs and lull herself out of bed in the God early hours, just to _run_! Dear Mary Mother of Joseph, the God Damn _nerve_ of this woman! The scarred palms of her hands clutched tightly about the surface of her wheel as Jane realized within her frantic stupor that Maura's house was just one more street over. Such a facet of information provoked her to allot more pressure on the gas pedal, which roused an unusual squeak of fear from her partner beside her. Perhaps if her blood wasn't so liquid hot and close to flooding through her pores in rabid furry, she might've laughed.

But _not _today, _not_ now. For the minute she managed to step foot in Maura's house and indeed realize that she was safe, she was definitely going to give the doctor something to panic about. No one scares the shit out Jane Rizzoli and lives to talk about it, and Jane was sure as hell going to teach her dearest colleague a message she wouldn't soon forget.

Within an instant, the Good Year tires of Rizzoli's cobalt Chrysler had finally crawled over the indent of Maura's driveway from the main road. Unfortunately lacking the patience to inch the vehicle further up, the Boston Detective abruptly braked the car and bolted out with fire hot on her heels. A highly nauseated and wary Frost, in the meantime, sat rigidly still within the passenger seat trying to gather himself from his near confrontation with death. Jane reached the porch within mere seconds, her hands retrieving her gun from the holster on her hip before nestling herself firmly beside glass pane of Doctor Isle's front door. Immediately did her free fist begin to mercilessly pound upon it.

"MAURA!" she roared, the scarred palms of hands anxiously trembling and sweating as a desperate mantra of hope sauntered about within her head.

_Please M, answer… Please…_

Her implorations toward the higher powers at work, however, failed to acknowledge her plight as the door remained closed, no immediate shuffling or any other signs of life echoing from within. A cruse slithered through her dry lips before she gradually extended her left hand forward and inched the glass door open and behind her back; her fist once more berating the wooden slab underneath and praying silently that perhaps Maura hadn't heard the first time.

Yet again, _nothing_.

"_Damn it_!" she seethed, and the crack of the passenger door closing alerted her of Frost's arrival.

"She not answer?" he asked, yet, he found words virtually useless since the vile scowl marring Jane's gorgeous complexion was enough of a response within itself.

"Frost, hold this fucking glass door open." Rizzoli growled, and he immediately complied with her request by lulling the glass pane off her back.

Once free of the cumbersome weight, Jane took a half step back before vigorously charging forward again; a ferocious grunt escaping her as her foot connected with the hard wood and struck Maura's door right off its hinges. Barry whistled in amazement with wide eyes, yet Jane disregarded his praise as she plowed on past him, her gun poised forward.

"_MAURA_!" she thundered again, and the vague echo of her disparaged cry resonating throughout the house was enough to churn her stomach with fear.

_Please God… just don't let it be… Please don't let it be… _

Blindly did she sprint forward further within the interior of the house and toward her colleague's room, desiring with the utmost naïve, expectance that she'd find the doctor still soundly asleep, or perhaps even in the midst of a shower. Such optimism dissipated within an instant, however, as soon as she'd entered Maura's room; discovering with distress that her bed was bare, her Asics running shoes were missing, and the air was stale and thick with unwarranted absence. It was then that she steadily sank to her knees in disbelief, her gun cradled by her folded legs as agony prickled through her body like a turbulent, electric current.

Maura_ was _gone…

And something, somehow, was terribly, irrevocably _wrong_…

* * *

Ooh, it is so mean of me to stop here. But you must admit, it is oh-so-wonderful of me to update at least a day later. ;)

Next chapter begins with Maura and her captor. I figured that I might as well give Jane's perspective first before doing so, since it just seemed to feel right with the flow and all. So hopefully, another chapter will be up here soon.

A fair warning however, is to be said here. I'm going home Saturday since I've got a break next week from school. And although I will be writing, an update might be difficult considering that I'll have no internet. But do not fear, for I will do what I can. If not, you can bet your pretty little asses that an update will be available next Sunday, if not sooner. So keep an eye out!

Anywhovillepenis, time to award appreciation where it is due!

A special and sincere thanks to all the following who reviewed:

-System D Rail (Yes, Angie Harmon is on L&O:CI. If you'd like to check it out, it's on everyday from 4-7 on TNT!)

-Transylvanian

-Goladyvols

-Heatwave16

-TVCrazed

-neoniloveyou

-Tate Freak

-Heidy

-Twisties

-Hoyee

-soccerstar11-5

-vmikki67

-hello

-breezie531

-LuvinYuri87

-Val-cb

-Tigrelily

-PumpkinButter

-Bad Girl762

-Karen

-Goose197

-darkemberdagger

-Steeleafan

-whitewolf666

-S

And many more!

Thank you guys so much! I love you all!

Read and enjoy, and don't forget to review!


	8. Chapter 8

Maura had tried to the best of her abilities to squirm away from the approaching man; however, he'd easily advanced upon her in two long strides. A vague chuckle that resonated like a growl escaped his lips in amusement of the woman's efforts to escape him, and deciding to no longer prolong her suspense, he lunged for her; his calloused fingers engrossing themselves within her chocolate locks as he steadily raised her from the floor and onto her bound feet. Maura howled in agony, her scalp smoldering from the tight grasp upon her hair so strongly, that her brown eyes sequined with just the faintest touch of emerald began to water.

"Hello, Doctor Isles…" the man purred, his deep and thick tone displaying a sort of reverence, and perhaps, even awe.

"It is so wonderful that you're here. I do apologize however, for having to bind you so. I assure you that you will become much more comfortable during your stay."

Her moist eyes widened at him in both horror and confusion, her slender body trembling within his clasp.

"W-What do you _want_?" she demanded, however, the raw and hoarse despondency of her words more or less made the statement appear as a plea.

Yet, he seemed untroubled by it as he regarded her with a vile grin.

"Why, isn't it obvious Maura?" he challenged her coyly, and the mere fact that this man was knowledgeable of her name was enough to still the blood in her veins.

unexpectedly, he pulled her close and locked her tightly within a constricting embrace; the oxygen slithering past her lips in heaving rasps from the crippling pressure while his breath permeated upon the skin of her ear.

"What I _want_, is **you**."

And just as sudden as the lull into his arms had been, so was the tremendous push propelling her to the dust smeared floor. Her skull dribbled against the concrete as a disparaged groan escaped her, her vision swiveling and sporadically blotching as a result. However, her captor was only just beginning. He strode toward her once more before plunging his boot clad foot into her abdomen; the thrusts synching into a ferocious and agonizing rhythm as air quite literally was being compressed from her lungs.

"Scream Maura, _scream_!" Her quarry roared, and her refusal to comply with his request had only ignited his infuriation, and thus increased the force behind his merciless blows.

She could feel her insides contorting in anguish, as well as sense the bruises beginning to develop and form into repulsive, discolored blotches upon her flawless, alabaster skin. Yet despite this, she'd somehow managed to remain silent; her teeth impulsively burrowing into the flesh of her bottom lip in subconscious defiance of allowing her captor his unwavering satisfaction. The deafening cackle of her ribs fracturing and disintegrating beyond possible repair, however, is what finally resulted in her to cave in and release a shrill and piercing scream.

"That's it Maura…" he sneered, his assault temporarily halting as he gazed down at her and absorbed her pained writhing with gratifying glory.

"Let yourself go. Give _into_ the pain;_ give _yourself onto me."

Blood crawled up her windpipe and trickled down her lips, and Maura's body began to convulse with heaving coughs.

"I do hope that you can continue to be such a good sport for me Doctor Isles…" he stated in an elated tone, and as he kneeled down to gently stroke the bruised cheek of her face, she couldn't help but notice the brazen, emerald eyes that were now narrowed upon her.

"After all… this is_ just_ the beginning…"

* * *

Korsack's prior commitment as a partner to Boston Homicide Detective Jane Rizzoli had taught him many things concerning her nature throughout the years. For instance, when she was anxious or fearful, she'd massage the scars upon her palms in frantic trepidation; when she happened to be intently focused upon something, her brow would coil tightly, and one of her palms would cradle the side of her face while she subconsciously gnawed on her lip; and when all files were accounted for and pertinent cases were solved, Jane preferred nothing more than relaxing at the Dirty Robber and quite graciously appraising the taste of brewed beer. Yet now as he rigidly stood and observed her from the doorframe leading into the bullpen, all Korsack could do was regard the young woman with pity as she sat alone at her desk; her body resignedly folded into her chair, her dark, chocolate eyes aimlessly gazing into an invisible world that no one else could see.

Of course, the detective immediately knew what it was that pained Jane so; for it was as obviously apparent as blue was the color of the sky. Maura was missing, and although each and every one of them loathed the prospect of even thinking it, there was an underlying suspicion that the man responsible for Kasey Morgan's murder could also be accountable for doctor Isle's abduction. And since virtually none of the evidence gathered had yielded or incriminated a possible suspect, no avenues were available to retrieve Maura. They were utterly powerless and possessed no leads, a discouraging feat that perhaps strained Rizzoli even more. Being the only female Homicide Detective in the Boston precinct was already a challenge she undertook every day upon arriving to work and dealing with perps and crude colleagues. Jane was used to trudging against adversity and struggling to maintain an equilibrium of power and respect.

Yet now, without any knowledge of where her best friend was, or even if she was still alive, it was if someone had intentionally added too much weight onto that of the opposition and upset the balance; she was a grunt all over again, having discriminating slurs uttered behind her back, and being the outcast with no existing access in order to get inside. And as such, she was now brooding, because Jane just couldn't rouse herself from her agitated and solemn stupor, as well as ignore the condescending, berating tone of her conscious blaming her for Maura's disappearance.

Footsteps stalking toward him aroused Korsack from his inner deliberation, and as his gaze swiveled over his shoulder, his cobalt eyes discovered Frost coming to a gradual stop beside him.

"How long has she been sitting there?" he asked in a hushed tone, his caramel eyes regarding his partner with sadness similar to Vince's.

Korsack wearily sighed and placed his hands within his charcoal suit pockets.

"Since the two of you got back 30 minutes ago." He replied, and Barry merely clicked his tongue disdainfully.

"She's taking it really hard, even though it's not her fault…" Frost mumbled, and he was surprised to hear Korsack scoff upon the conclusion of his thought.

"Good luck trying to that through her thick head." He muttered, and the younger detective couldn't help but grimace from the truth of the elder's words.

"Jane is a protective person by nature. She holds the gun, she wears the badge, and she's used to being shot at on a daily basis. But Maura, Maura's a doctor; a woman from upscale Boston with a grade-A education and wealth up the ass. She shouldn't be included in danger, shouldn't have to be involved. And that's why Jane is kicking the shit out of herself, because out of the two of them, she is the sword and shield, and Maura is the brains."

Barry hummed in acknowledgement and was about to add his own thoughts, until the scraping of Jane's chair rotating caught both of the men's attention.

"You know…" she drawled, her tone immensely coated with her patented sarcasm, chocolate eyes narrowed upon them.

"I really don't appreciate being analyzed; Maura does it to me enough."

"Well, she's not here is she?" Korsack countered, though harsher than he originally intended, for he could see Jane visibly recoil at his words. So he quickly fabricated something crude in order to lighten the mood and shift the direction of conversation.

"So I figure we should pick up the slack."

Rizzoli couldn't even muster a grin or chuckle. She instead merely sighed as one of her hands extended upward and coiled through her unruly, midnight curls.

"Yeah, and it's my fault she's God knows where…" she brooded sadly, however, that remorse gradually contorted into anger.

"I should've just _let_ her come to work! At least she'd be here, _safe_, instead of being held hostage by some fucking psychopath!" And upon the conclusion of her belittling rant, her fingers unraveled from her hair and slammed hard upon the armrest of her chair.

Korsack, however, wasn't going to hear it, nor allow his cherished, ex-partner the pleasure of degrading herself.

"Shut it Rizzoli." He thundered as he trudged toward her, Frost merely stunned and remaining rigidly still in the bullpen doorway in regards to how Vince could even say that to a woman that was much like his own kin.

"You couldn't have predicted that this would happen; _none _of us could. Hell, Maura wouldn't have even _bothered_ to get out of bed had she known she was gonna be kidnapped. Besides, now is _not_ the time to be kicking ourselves in the ass. Maura's out there, waiting for us to find her, and God Damn it, that is _exactly_ what we're gonna do!"

He concluded his lecture and stood in front of her then; inclining forward and hovering just mere inches from her face, hands anchored upon the armrests of her chair.

"So come on Jane. Shake it off, and put that fire under your ass like you always do." Korsack whispered softly, and Jane, startled yet comforted by her confidants words, looked as if she was close to nearly sobbing from letting herself become so eluded by anger and shame.

"I know you love her, and you can't live with yourself unless you save her. You're her knight in shining armor after all."

A mischievous smile unraveled upon his dry lips, and with the somber mood shifting back into that of determination and unyielding optimism, Jane chuckled and lightly pushed him back before standing.

"Korsack, I will kick your ass if you _ever_ say that again." She threatened, yet a grin identical to that of Vince's betrayed the intention of her words.

"But you're right. Enough moping around, we've got a damsel to save."

* * *

Maura's manicured nails coiled deeply within the perspiring palms of her trembling hands, the tears once stagnant in her chocolate eyes began to bleed over and trickle down her bruised and pale cheeks. Her captor had rotated her onto her back before allowing his calloused and coarse fingers to quite forcefully shred the fabric of her Brooks, under-armor long sleeved shirt right down the middle. Briefly did he pause, a hum of appraise, or perhaps even enjoyment due to her obvious discomfort, radiating deep from within his chest.

"Oh Maura, you _truly_ are beautiful…" he purred, and slightly did the medical examiner jump from underneath him upon feeling the touch of his rough fingers meandering aimlessly about her skin.

"It almost _pains_ me to have to **cut** it…"

She inhaled sharply in distress while her blood stilled, horror seething through every venue within her body. Quite quickly did her analytic mind begin contemplating possible scenarios regarding the preservation of her life, and how she could manage to inflict pain upon her captor before crawling away to safety. Yet, as if detecting that perhaps the medical examiner was using her superior intelligence to somehow formulate a scheme to subdue him, the man immediately stopped his stalling and proceeded to retrieve his army knife from the sheath on his hip; the blade glistening in a malicious and precarious manner before being propelled forward into the alabaster skin of the doctors back. Maura howled in anguish, her body writhing due the subconscious response of trying to get away from harm only resulting in the cutting edge to penetrate deeper through the layers of her skin.

Yet, rather than withdraw the blade and continue to hack into her delicate flesh, he allowed the knife to remain within; his calloused fingers tightening their grip upon the hilt before, ever so slowly, beginning to shift the razor down her spine. The Medical Coroner screamed even louder, if at all possible, due to the tantalizing ache radiating throughout every bone, muscle, and fiber existing in her body, and with all her soul did she will time to speed forward so that her misery could end. And as if the religious deities of the world were humoring her plight, the man finally did remove his army blade from her skin; a raw and perceptively deep, profusely bleeding scar extending from that of her left shoulder to the small of her back, left within the knifes wake.

Though it agonized her, Maura's chest heaved in disparity to regain her breath, discovering that she'd unintentionally held it while the blade had been creating a twisted, sadistic sketch in her skin. The man hovering above her could only release another low hum of pleasure as his emerald eyes regarded the beautifully morbid masterpiece he was constructing; flesh, he was beginning to realize, becoming his most preferable medium of expression.

"You were _so_ good Maura…" he praised, and consumed by her anguish to the point of being nearly incoherent, she failed to aware of his fingers lightly prodding her wound.

"Keep being good for me Doctor Isles, because I've only _just _gotten started. You still have a ways to go until you're a masterpiece like Kasey…."

* * *

"Meyers, _please_ tell me you've got something for me!" Jane thundered as she strode into the Morgue, the young pathologist in question slightly jumping due to the intrusive sound.

Yet regardless, she pivoted and offered the Boston Detective a quaint smile as she stilled the sewing of the y-incision upon James Wagner's chest.

"Well, I can only tell you what's available within my knowledge." She replied, and there appeared to be an apologetic air to her tone, which conveyed to Rizzoli that unfortunately, there wasn't a lot to be told.

However, she managed to swallow the collage of curses crawling up her windpipe before allowing a vague grin of understanding toward her colleague.

"That's fine, just give me what you've got." The detective assured her, and inhaling a collective breath, Shelby nodded before proceeding to divulge her conclusive discoveries.

"Well, for one, the finger prints on Maura's phone were her own." She began, and the grimace that foiled Jane's features was not lost upon the young pathologist.

"Besides logging in your call, I was also able to find the interrupted one that Maura was making before she was kidnapped; it was 911. I suspect that when she stumbled upon James, she realized that he was having a heart attack, and therefore was trying to help him."

The irony of her colleague being kidnapped amidst the process of helping another was enough to cause Jane's heart to writhe in agony, and quite strongly did she have subdue the warmth of tears gathering within her eyes. It was within that moment that she swore nothing would stop her from saving her dearest friend; either Maura would be rescued, or she'd die right along with her. And that was a promise that she'd gladly, without hesitation, swear her life upon.

"Detective Rizzoli, are you alright?" Shelby asked softly, the tenderness of her tone arousing Jane from her martyr composed stupor.

She chuckled sheepishly while quickly extending her scarred palms upward to cleanse her eyes of their moisture.

"Yes, and please, call me Jane." The detective answered, and the younger coroner hummed in acknowledgement.

"So, what time could you say that Maura was kidnapped?"

"Well, the call was abruptly canceled, perhaps due to the fact that the phone had dropped on the concrete. I'd say that it was about 6:15, a few minutes after the initial call. That and it only took James about 15 minutes to drown in his own blood afterward."

"So, is there anything else?" and inwardly, Rizzoli marveled at how hopeful she sounded.

Shelby remained quiet for a few minutes, her brow coiled pensively. Yet as soon as her pale blue eyes widened, Jane's heart began to beat a little faster in excited anticipation.

"_Actually_, I noticed something while wrapping up James autopsy." She stated in a matter-of-factly tone, and briskly walking toward Maura's desk, she retrieved a photo of the incisions made upon Kasey.

"I realized that these stabbing wounds", she'd lulled Jane to the steel examination table where James lay and pointed a latex covered finger toward his pectoral cut, "were identical to Kasey Morgan's incisions."

Jane's dark, chocolate eyes maneuvered back and forth between the evidence before her until she hummed in realization.

"So it is the same guy, and he's held her captive for the past 4 or so hours…" she whispered thickly, dread immediately churning within her stomach.

"_Shit_."

She pivoted on her heels and began to stalk away from the bewildered pathologist, only to briefly pause once she'd reached the morgue entrance.

"Let me know _immediately _if you find anything else."

Yet she didn't wait for an answer as she continued on her way back to the bullpen; the acknowledgment that Maura's life was within imminent danger more pertinent and horrid as ever.

* * *

And here we stop.

Jeez, this chapter was definitely a challenge, especially considering that I had to cause Maura so much pain. It was difficult, and made me feel terrible, but, no fears. For we all know that through some way or another, Jane _will _save Maura.

I also made a mistake. Angie Harmon wasn't on L&O:CI, but the older Law & Order episodes. I believe its seasons 9, 10 &11. But they still are showing on TNT from 4-7, so if you feel like watching Angie go all District Attorney on some stupid people's asses, DO IT. ;)

Anyways, time to award the credit.

A sincere thank you to all the following that reviewed:

-Tate Freak

-Transylvanian

-Hello

-Goose197

-TVCrazed

-Soul Rider

-Goladyvols

-EmilyJane69

-Hoyee

-System D Rail

-Darkemberdagger

-heatwave16

-Heidy

-Twisties

-soccerstar11-5

-vmikki67

-breezie531

-LuvinYuri87

-Val-cb

-Tigrelily

-PumpkinButter

-Bad Girl762

-Karen

-Steeleafan

-whitewolf666

-S

-neoniloveyou

And many more!

I'll try to update again soon, but it all solely depends on how time goes. I promise though, keep an eye out!

All my love!

Read and Enjoy!


	9. Chapter 9

**Three**; that was the _precise _number of lacerations embedded within the delicate, fair skin of her back; the _approximate_ amount which caused a great ache to radiate throughout the very bones, muscles, and fibers of her entire body. She couldn't exactly recall when it was that she'd passed out due to the pain, or even when in her unconscious state, she'd been moved onto a decrepit, box spring mattress from her prior position on the floor, with wrists bound tightly above her head. Yet, Maura Isles was acutely aware of one thing: time, as cliché as it was to even say, was running out, and unless she could find a means of escape, or perhaps even be rescued by Jane, there was no doubt within her intellectually brilliant mind that she'd be dead. _Soon_. Being knowledgeable of this, she attempted to wriggle out of the splintery rope that entwined her wrists, until the _seething_ pain caused by the act crippled her. Immediately, Maura ceased movement and lied still; her teeth fervently gnawing upon the flesh of her bottom lip to in order to swallow the groan threatening to escape.

As the Chief Medical Examiner that had scrutinized the body of Kasey Morgan, she'd had some vague idea of what the young woman had gone through, and therefore, had anticipated the pain. But the amount of time taken upon recording tedious observations hadn't prepared her for it upon this scale. She'd never expected to be so intoxicated by the numbing feeling that her stomached churned in disparagement, growling in both agony and agitation from being deprived of nutrition and fluids; she'd never experienced such an excruciating sensation that made her head throb and swivel, with her vision unable to adjust and focus despite how much she blinked away the haze; and, adding another first onto her unprecedented list, Maura had never felt so weak and miserable enough to wish that she'd just _die_. And to even ponder, or perhaps admit such, was considerably significant since she'd never given the prospect much thought. Of course, this was not to suggest that she was completely ignorant of the concept, _not_ at all. She was _acutely_ aware of the actuality that all living things succumbed to death, for it was imminent and inevitable. All creatures capable of life died: children, animals, plants and trees, adolescents and adults, elderly, even _babies_ during pregnancy and those just born die.

Everyone contained an implicit encryption within their DNA for death; yet, it was ultimately precursors such as time and the unfortunate circumstances within life that determined when it was exactly, the heart would stop beating. However, there were those that had the privilege of deciding just when and how they would pass on from this life, and into that of deaths embrace. Cancer victims who no longer wished to continue fruitless treatments for their incurable disease could abstain and simply go home to lay and wait to perish. Others of a more bold and vivacious perspective pursued aspiring goals and wanted nothing more than to dwindle out as a flame rather than wither as ashes. Ironically, Maura couldn't help but envy those with such open and endless possibilities, especially considering her current predicament. For in all honesty, if she were left with the choice, she'd rather off herself than allow this man to take that freedom away from her.

Medical Examiner Maura Isles, Cum Lade of Boston Cambridge University, Chief Coroner within the Homicide Precinct, did _not_ wish to die a prisoner of torture, starvation, dehydration, and rape; she did _not_ want to be listed within _The Inquirer _under the crime section column as the latest victim of a deranged and sadistic serial killer; and she most certainly would _not_ become the most recent, daunting memory to haunt Jane's conscious. Upon the mere thought of her best friend, the doctor couldn't help but whimper. So terribly did she miss her colleague's mischievous demeanor and radiant smile; the scathing sarcasm that her tone would take due to a humorous taunt, or the way the dark amber of her eyes would glow when her laugh reached them. Such a vividly warm and soothing image of the suave Homicide Detective quickly deteriorated however, when Maura surmised how both paranoid and livid she more than likely was. Grimacing, the medical coroner could only imagine the structural damage the precinct was suffering due to Jane's agitated and fearful pacing; as well as the irritation of her skin surely caused by the constant massaging of her palms from her frantic fingers.

Korsack and Frost, no doubt, were probably doing their best to calm her so that Rizzoli's heart wouldn't implode due to the elevating stress, yet, even with their admirable effort would Jane still remain tense and hostile, perhaps even unapproachable. Ever resolute and unwavering, her colleague would shred the greater area of Boston in order to find her, and that attribute of unyielding determination was enough to provide Maura some hope; hope that she'd be located and rescued, with guns blazing; hope that she'd be whisked away from this absurdity and woven within the security and warmth that was Jane's arms. Oh… how she could only hope…

The rust encrusted hinges groaning in protest of being weaned open aroused her from her wistful thoughts, which were then preceded by a bright and blinding light. Maura's chocolate eyes rapidly blinked in order to adjust to the intrusive glare, before realizing for the first time since being within the presence of her captor, she was able to decipher the environment surrounding her; as well as physically observe the man that was responsible for inflicting upon her so much pain. Maura surmised that he was approximately 6'2, his dark, olive kissed skin indicating either an Italian heritage, or perhaps a job that demanded constant outdoor activity. The musculature of his arms visible from the short sleeves of his navy blue shirt supported a vigorous exercise regimen, as well as the indentations of defined abdomen that protruded through the fabric.

As her chocolate, sequined emerald eyes continued to assess him, she discovered with bewilderment the plastic booties that were fastened about his shoes and just peeking out from beneath the rim of his denim pants. How in the world would he have gotten those? To the best of her knowledge, surgeons and their assistants within operating rooms were required to have them, and during autopsies did Maura herself request that all those entering the morgue wear them as well for contamination purposes. Was it possible that he perhaps stole them from a hospital? Had he somehow gotten through security at the precinct and broke into the lab?

As if sensing her confusion, the man provided a coy smile; a quite handsome and symmetrically pleasing one, Maura noted, as dimples appeared from its width.

"Ah, Maura, it is so wonderful to see you awake." He told her, the sincerity of his tone almost persuading her that he'd actually been concerned about her lack of consciousness.

"I knew my tactics would eventually cause you to pass out, however, you surprised me with your pain tolerance. You truly are a character."

The mere manner in which his eyes regarded her, so raw and ravenous, was enough to churn the bile in her stomach.

Acknowledging her silence, he feigned a pained expression as he inched closer toward her.

"What's the matter Doctor Isles? No penny for your thoughts?" he challenged, and having reached the edge of the mattress did he kneel; the narrow nose, accented cheek bones, broad jaw and cleft chin finally obliterated from the darkness that had once obscured them.

When she continued to remain obstinately silent, an exasperated and disappointed sigh escaped his lips.

"Such a shame. I'd love to hear that Google mouth of yours…" he mumbled, and he extended the right calloused palm of his hand to massage his shaved, blonde scalp.

If at all possible, the alabaster hue of her skin paled even further, her weary and hazed eyes widening. Only Jane had referred to her as such… how was it even possible that he'd know that? What was truly the extent to which this man had been perhaps observing her?

Immersed within her own speculations, she'd failed to notice that he had crawled onto the box spring mattress and was now hovering over her; his bright, emerald eyes appearing to be much darker than before.

"All I ever wanted was for Kasey to love me…" he whispered softly, and with the musculature of his left arm anchoring him, his right hand gently reached forward and caressed her cheek.

The mere contact of his calloused fingers upon her skin was equivalent to that of a sharp slap on the face, and immediately was she roused back to reality and candidly returning his gaze.

"I grew up with her, you know? She was Miss perfect; the kid that had a mother who loved her, and gave her everything she wanted… while I…"

He paused and swallowed thickly, as if trying to disengage the agony that was heavily woven with the memories.

"…I was the kid with an alcoholic mom and abusive father. Every day, while growing up, he beat the living shit out of me. And all my mother could do was just drown in her whiskey and tonic, because she couldn't handle it. Kasey knew, you know, saw all the bruises and what not…she was the only one that understood…"

Maura could only retaliate with a sympathetic and sorrowful frown, her conscious inwardly scolding her for being so sensitive toward a man, that otherwise, wasn't entitled to such considering her current circumstances in regards to both Kasey and herself. She surmised that he was trying to perhaps level himself with her, so as to provide her a plausible excuse as to why it was he was pursuing such sadistic and asinine methods of expressing his resentment. Yet, despite the benign neglect and abuse he experienced as a child, it still didn't, and never could, condone his actions.

"By the time I reached middle school, dad had bailed, and mom still drank. I became accustomed to staying at Kasey's house and eating dinner, as well as sleeping there. She and her mom took such good care of me… the both of them made me believe that a concept such as love and compassion existed in this sad excuse of a world… but then, high school arrived…"

Maura wasn't foreign to the anger and abhorrence that slurred his concluding words, and as his solemn features became contorted by that of rage, she could feel the weary and aching muscles in her body tensing in preparation for what was coming.

"Kasey was such a talented athlete, especially when it came to running. She was the top girl on the team since the 6th grade; she could run a mile in less than 5 minutes…"

It may have been faint and brief, but the medical coroner could've sworn seeing a slight glimmer of awe and admiration resonate within his emerald eyes before flickering back into fury.

"I suppose I should've seen it coming, the fact that she would leave me behind to be with all the jocks and cool kids. It wasn't about the two of us anymore, racing our bikes down the road, or sitting in that large, pine tree in her back yard watching the sun set on summer evenings. All that mattered was Acrombie & Fitch, Asics running shoes, and having the best dress at prom. I faded into the background, black and white, while she continued to shine brightly with color. The last time that I can even recall her hugging me was when we both graduated... that was the happiest moment in my life, being held in her arms."

He sheepishly chuckled and shook his head, as if incredulous of the aspect that he'd been so mesmerized by her.

"But the thing about memories is, they're just memories, which unfortunately loose substance after time. And I tried so hard, _so hard_, to make her understand that I was the one; the one who would take care of her, the one that'd wipe away the tears and hold her when she was breaking. But it wasn't enough. Going to the same school _wasn't_ enough; coming to her cross country and track meets _wasn't _enough; hell, even _sending _her flowers and one of those tacky cards on her birthday _wasn't_ enough. I pulled her aside the night before our school let out for the summer of our Sophomore year, and tried to explain myself, but she begged me to let go and move on; that she didn't feel the same, that someone out there would be able to replicate my feelings. And as I watched her walk away, my whole world left with her…"

A lucid haze clouded his dulled, emerald eyes then, as tears gradually eluded his tear ducts and trickled down his olive, accented cheeks. Once more did her heart beat to an empathic chord, and if it hadn't been for the mere fact of her wrists being bound, quite ironically and sadly would she have extended a hand forward to cleanse away the droplets embodying his anguish.

"So I dropped out of BCU, and got an Associate's Degree in medical assistance at a crummy tech school. I tried so hard to forget by getting a job, an apartment, new friends and a new life, but I just couldn't… because every time I closed my eyes, or even let my thoughts wonder, Kasey was there; consuming me with her beautiful, ocean eyes; her lithe and muscular body; the radiance of her laugh… I knew then, right then, that I couldn't let go… I'd _never_ let go… and Kasey _needed_ to know that…"

Abruptly did his sorrow recede and transition into that of malice and pure sadism, and as his body shifted its weight onto his knees, his calloused hands roughly clasped Maura's face.

"So I began following her, watching her. I knew her classes; I knew _when_ she ate, _when_ she finished practice and _when_ she retired to her room. She may have _thought_ I was gone, but I was there _all_ along…"

The medical Coroner whimpered as his touch became explicitly tighter, his lips coiling into a vile sneer.

"I find it so amusing, how she could've thought going _home_ would rid her of her paranoia. She should've known better, for I lived right down the _damn _street from her!"

He was shaking her now, with his seething and venomous rage, and her innards already damaged from his cruelty rattled in agony from the force.

"And I _honestly_ tried, Maura, to give her another chance. The whole time I had her writhing beneath me, I kept _giving_ her chance after chance to admit that she loved me. But she wouldn't, even if it _meant_ she could live. So I took the very _breath_ out of her body, because a life without me ever being included_ isn't_ a life at all. And now, here we are Maura, just _you and I_…"

His hold upon her released then, and even without the presence of his skin on hers, she could still feel the indentations of his fingers, which would inevitably, leave bruises.

"Being in the medical field, as well as a previous student of Cambridge, all aspiring doctors, coroners, nurses, and physicians are told about the marvelous Maura Isles; the crown jewel of the school; a testament to the intellectual brilliance constituting its foundation."

The man then promptly removed himself from his position beside her on the mattress and stood with his back turned against her; idly pacing as his thundering tone continued to elope the atmosphere of the room.

"Even within my admiration of Kasey, you _always_ fascinated me Maura. I was absolutely confounded by your intelligence and abilities, and swore that someday I'd work beside you…"

He deliberately paused and swiveled toward her once more, his emerald eyes resonating with a mischievous glint.

"I know you don't consider this as a _professional phase_ of our relationship, but I do hope you've gathered the extent of my admirable skills."

The arrogance plaguing his words was finally enough to rouse Maura out of her induced silence.

"That's why we couldn't find any conclusive foot prints…" she growled, and the anger at his belligerence slurring her voice was so profound, she inwardly surprised herself.

"Your medical history also supports your precision in regards to Kasey's wounds and where to inflict them."

His chuckle radiated like a snarl deep from within his chest, a despicable smile still impaling his lips.

"If I didn't know any better, Doctor Isles, I'd say you're _complimenting_ me."

This merely resulted in the civil mannered medical examiner to scowl.

"You _disgust_ me." Maura spat, yet, if she'd offended him with her crude words, he concealed it well.

"The Boston Police _will_ find me, and you _will_ get caught."

Her captor bellowed a deafening laugh at the conclusion of her statement, a manic glee perspiring from his muscular body.

"_Oh yes_…" he purred, his revealed canines within the light gleaming ominously.

"Your precious Jane will most _certainly_ find you…"

Isles involuntarily flinched upon the utterance of her colleague's name, and having acknowledged her reaction, the humor once coiling his features withered into that of resolute wickedness.

"But the question that remains to be seen, _Maura_…"

He inched over toward the mattress before crawling and hovering over her again, and as he inclined forward, the doctor swiveled her head to the left in order to avoid his lips introducing upon hers. Yet, it quickly appeared that it hadn't been his intention to do so in the first place, since chills ravished her skin upon feeling his heated breath on the sensitive lobe of her ear.

"… is if Jane will find you _alive_…"

* * *

If at all possible, Jane's temperament had considerably worsened since her visit down at the morgue with Maura's assistant Shelby, and the Boston Homicide Detective feared that her mentality would only continue to deteriorate should the situation remain hopeless. For as it was, she possessed nothing , especially in terms of evidence, that could perhaps yield who their suspect was, or even where Maura could be. And with the clock in the precinct swiveling its decrepit hands upon the hour of twelve, Jane could only groan in disparagement upon the fact that her colleague had been elusive for six straight hours. Six, _God Damn hours_ of being cruelly and mercilessly starved, dehydrated, horrified and—though it distressed her to even ponder it, nonetheless, utter it -tortured. Despite her deliberate absences at church on Sunday's, as well as the actuality that she hadn't quite exactly deduced what it _was_ she believed in, the Homicide Detective found herself vehemently praying with every fiber in her body that Maura was alive; beaten, malnourished and barely coherent, but _still_ alive.

"You alright Jane?" Korsack's voice beckoned, and having been lounging within her chair in front of her desk, she immediately straightened before swiveling to gaze at his taunt form behind her.

"If alright means still breathing, then yes." She replied in a scathingly sarcastic tone, to which of course, Vince took to no offense.

"Mentally though, my mind is a warzone."

He faintly chuckled as he shifted himself onto the corner of her disheveled desk.

"I know what you mean, it's hard having one of your own missing." He told her, his understanding tone perhaps conveying a similarity to a prior experience within his career.

"But you've gotta keep your head up Jane. We're gonna find her, you know we will."

Unfortunately for Vince, however, such cliché utterances of encouragement had lost their mirth, and instead had rather served to fuel her infuriation.

"_How_ Korsack! And with _what_!" Rizzoli thundered, her patience and optimism having reached its peak as she angrily rose from her seat.

"We have _no_ DNA, _no_ identity, not even a _damn_ footprint! The only thing we have is Maura's phone, which, _FYI_, have only _her_ finger prints on it! Now, unless you've got a miracle stuck up your ass, we may not even be able to find her in time! Fuck, right now she could be-"

Jane's frantic rant had stopped just as abruptly as it had begun; the exhausted, turbulent thoughts of her mind unable to will her lips to even conclude her sentence. It was just too excruciatingly agonizing to even assume or suggest that Maura could be dead, for if she were inclined to simply pause and ponder the aspect of her colleague's absence from her life, she acknowledged the great width of the void that'd be left behind. And despite the fact that it was the entwinement of their professions that had yielded their friendship in the first place, the two women had become so much closer over the past year. Maura had quite literally defined the stereotypical _best friend_ that she'd been lacking the companionship of all those years during childhood and adolescence. In fact, before the intellectually brilliant and quirky medical coroner had even stepped her Jimmy Cho's within the footholds of Jane's life, she'd grown accustomed to that title being unoccupied by anyone.

The Boston Homicide Detective had merely figured that it was her flamboyant, tom boyish nature and crude tongue that kept all the superficial girls at an arm's length, and that even should she discover and invest in a sincere friendship, the responsibilities and obligations of her career would be too much of a burden for anyone to be understanding of. And yet Maura, ever the exception to all logic and rationality, had defied and risen above her expectations unlike any before her. She'd accepted the fact, though it was always admonished with disgust, that Jane practically swore every five minutes, and normally fell asleep in her work clothes and shoes. She'd come to consider it as ordinary when the detectives mind _could not_, and _would not_, function to its fullest potential until she'd swallowed her morning coffee, as well as approach her apartment door from the inside with gun poised until she peered through its gap to identify who it was outside.

They were complete opposites down to a T, and yet, Jane couldn't deny the admiration and love she had for her colleague; the selfless dedication and loyalty to the extent of which the detective would go to the end of the earth if it meant ensuring her companions life and safety. Medical Examiner Maura Isles was her only true, best friend, which made it all the more painful that she was utterly powerless to do anything to help her.

Immersed within her thoughts, Jane had failed to acknowledge Korsack's shift from her desk to that of standing mere inches in front of her; his cobalt eyes regarding her ruefully.

"Jane…" he whispered tenderly, and the affection and sympathy within his tone was all it took to shatter her walls right down to her core.

Within an instant, her knees buckled and her lithe body wilted, heavy and heart wrenching sobs escaping her lips. Fortunately, the years of being a cop had superbly honed the reflexes of even an elder man like Vince, and within a blink of an eye did he catch and hold her flailing and somber frame.

"Shh…" he coaxed softly, his calloused fingers stroking the unruly strands of her midnight locks as her tears moistened the fabric of his charcoal jacket.

"It's gonna be okay Jane, I promise you. It'll be okay."

She shook her head sorrowfully within the confines of his tight clasp.

"I-I can't… I just can't…" Jane whimpered on strangled, wisps of air.

"I-I c-can't lose her Vince… I can't lose Maura…"

He unwove her from his embrace as he kept his hands firmly clasped upon her forearms at an arm's length, his features rigid like contorted stone.

"You won't Jane, you wanna know why?" Korsack challenged, and upon observing her brow pique in attentiveness, he continued.

"Because you're a damn _cop_, Jane, and one of the _best_ in Boston too, I might add. You don't ever, _ever_, let anyone take away the things you want, nor hurt the people you love. And this sick fuck, he's done both of those things; he's got us by the _balls_, and I'll admit that. But _we_-", he then removed his right hand and prodded Jane fiercely in the chest for emphasis, "—_we_ are _not_ going to let him get away. I won't, Frost won't, and you sure as _hell _won't either."

Jane vaguely chuckled and proceeded to sniffle, the left scarred palm of her hand extending upward and embarrassedly cleansing her eyes and cheeks of tears.

"I-I know Korsack… I'm sorry, I just—"she began to utter an apology, yet her ex partner immediately interjected.

"Don't you dare apologize to me Rizzoli." Korsack growled, both his hands migrating and situating themselves tightly upon her broad shoulders.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for. You didn't plan on this happening, none of us did. And if we had seen this coming, we would've been more prepared. But the best we can do, for right now, is do all we can, with what we have, to get Maura back."

Jane acknowledged the prospect that her emotions were consuming and dictating all rational thought, and that the elder detectives words were definitely composed of truth and sincerity. Yet the pessimism within her heart still beat to too strongly of a chord, and subconsciously did her features portray such beliefs coiled by doubt.

"But Korsack-" Jane drawled.

"But_ nothing_ Jane." Vince impeded once more.

"We may not have located Kasey's car, nor have any specific drug substances or rope fibers that could've been used, but we can figure out something. We haven't exploited all of our options yet."

"He's _right_, Jane." Barry agreed from the doorway of the bullpen, which resulted in Rizzoli to visibly stiffen and swivel toward him incredulously.

"Your frustration is getting the best of you. You've never let yourself be psyched out by anything."

Jane heaved an aggravated sigh as her left hand extended upward so that her fingers could pinch the bridge of her nose; inwardly admitting to herself in spite of her pride, that her partner was correct in his diagnosis of Jane's lack of morale .

"What is this, 'beat Jane senseless with encouragement' day?" she grumbled, and despite her superb attempt at sounding annoyed, the faint glimmer of a smile leaking onto her lips betrayed her intent.

"You were, and still are, beating yourself up too badly over this Jane." Frost explained as he stalked over to join his two colleagues.

"So Korsack and I figured that pumping you up would be worth something."

His response roused a humorless chuckle from deep within her lithe frame.

"Yeah well, kudos for the effort." She told them, which to Vince and Barry, was the closest they were going to get in terms of appreciation for their efforts.

"But if you wanna see a real uplift in spirit, I need something concrete; like, say, I dunno, _evidence_?"

It was then that both she and Korsack noticed a wide, cheshire grin impaling Frost's lips, as well as a proud gleam resonating in his caramel eyes.

"I figured that'd be the best type of medicine, which is why I came up here to say this…" the detective announced, yet before his bewildered colleagues could prod him further for information, he quickly ended their suspense.

"Downstairs in one of the interrogation rooms is a student that attends Cambridge. He saw one of our fliers of the vic on campus and called; he says he knows who our suspect is."

* * *

Whew! Oh dear God, I can't believe it took me a solid month to write this, especially since half of it was already typed to begin with.

However, in my defense, when you're a college student balancing that of work, an Eastern Religion class and an Algebra class, with a heavy homework load from both, time isn't exactly of the essence here.

And for that, I apologize. My ideas are still strong for this story, so if anyone is worried about not seeing a conclusion, don't be; it will be finished.

Which leads me to my next question: I've been considering whether or not to make a sequel. You see, Maura will be rescued either next chapter or the following one, so the story could end with Jane finding her; or it could continue on from there, rather than continue through another story, and just keeping going.

I honestly don't mind either way, but I wanted to hear from you guys first before any decisions were made. So, if at all possible, let me know in your reviews!

Speaking of which, it is time to allot credit and appreciation to where it is due.

A sincere thank you to all of the following:

-HB Carolyn

-Jezzibella

-Blakeigh Hollis

-its Maggie

-TVCrazed

-Melissa018

-hello

-Steeleafan

-Goladyvols

-Vmikki67

-darkemberdagger

-class act 9

-neoniloveyou

-Tate Freak

-Hoyee

-System D Rail

And many more!

Look at this! 98 reviews! Holy shit! I can't believe that I have been blessed with the most awesome and inspiring readers in the world! Thank you all for your support and patience, and I promise to update again soon!

All my love, and Happy Halloween! :D


	10. Chapter 10

Whether it was willed by mere chance due to the higher powers at work, or perhaps even just coincidental that the flier depicting Kasey Morgan's prime suspect in her murder had been caught beneath the undertow of his converse shoes, Dylan hall would never know. However, upon gazing downward in confusion and clasping the now crumpled paper, it was as if a switch had been triggered, and the previously weary gears concealed beneath his skull revived and riveted to life; he knew exactly _who_ it was, and such an acknowledgement not only confounded Dylan, it also greatly _frightened_ him. And now as he sat apprehensively within a poorly painted, alabaster cinder block room, his fingers frantically prattling against the cool, steel surface of the table, his mind desperately attempted to conceive the logic out of this whole horrible situation.

How could _he _be capable of doing such a despicable thing, especially when _he _had reiterated over and over like a broken record about how much _he loved_ Kasey? What could contort a man so to the pivotal point of madness, to inflict excruciating pain upon everyone that had known or was related to her? No matter how _much_ or how _hard_ he pondered, no answer could be derived from the horror; absolutely _none_. It was just a psychotic obsession that, upon being blended with rejection, yielded terrible results; an unprecedented reaction that none desired nor expected.

Dylan was roused from his musings upon the door being powerfully thrust open; a tall, lithe brunette stalking into the room with a dark scowl that marred the beautiful complexion of her olive skinned face. He swallowed nervously as she stood opposite from him and inclined forward, the amber of her eyes acting like that of a gravitational force which lulled him in.

"So, _Mr. Hall_…" the female detective drawled, her tone devoid of any semblance of emotion.

"You know who this—"she retrieved the flier from her back pocket and, after laying it upon the table, rotated it so that he could inspect it—"man is?"

Dylan expressed his consent with a brisk nod, his chocolate eyes never veering from Jane's.

"Yes, yes I do." He replied, and upon her brow piquing in attentiveness as subtle indicator to explain further, he continued.

"His name is Brian Dean. He attended Cambridge his freshmen and sophomore year before dropping out. He was a premed student."

The homicide detective hummed in acknowledgement upon receiving the information before straightening her posture; her lean yet muscled arms weaving about her chest.

"And _why_ did he do that?" Jane pried, and her question resulted in him to merely sigh in a perhaps abashed manner.

"Well, obviously, you know how _bad_ he was in love with Kasey…" Dylan began, and Rizzoli noticed that upon mentioning the victims name, his whole body appeared to slump under the implied sadness of the weight.

"He'd been hiding it so long, since they were little. They grew up with each other, were best friends. But he didn't want to be friends anymore; he wanted _more_. So he finally gathered up the balls and told her how he felt. She, of course, didn't like him that. It tore him apart, real bad. He tried for a week afterward to keep going to school, but he couldn't handle seeing her. So he just dropped out and went to a tech school instead."

Inwardly, Jane laughed at the obscenity of the suspects coping skills, but maintaining an air of professionalism, she thickly swallowed her amusement and continued conducting the interrogation.

"You sound like you know him pretty well." She responded in a speculative tone, and her body, annoyed by her lack of mobility, started slowly pacing around the narrow confines of the room.

"How long have you two been friends?"

A vague smile ghosted his lips as his gaze followed her as if in a deep trance, yet, a peculiar sorrow rimmed his weary eyes.

"Since our junior year of high school... I guess you could say that we were best friends."

Once more did she hum in acquiescence of his responses, her meandering frame gradually coming to a stop behind him.

"In your honest opinion, did you believe that Brian was _capable_ of murder?"

Her chocolate eyes detected the stiffening of his taunt form in his seat, the once prattling fingers of his hands retracting and coiling into tight fists. At first he didn't respond, his breathing, she'd noticed, becoming precise and deep as a sign that he was perhaps discerning on how to exactly reciprocate her question.

After a few more minutes of collective and meditative silence, however, he shifted in his seat in order to meet her analytical gaze.

"Brain had it really bad growing up…" Dylan drawled, his tone conveying a substantial amount of pity.

"His father beat the shit out of him and left him in middle school; his mother was emitted to rehab for being an alcoholic right before entering college. He had no one, no one at all except for Kasey."

It was admirable, she deduced, that despite the horrid crime Brian had committed, Dylan was still valiantly defending him. However, such endearing tactics were undoubtedly useless within Jane's perspective upon this juncture in time; especially considering that for the past 6 hours she'd been frantically scrambling for nonexistent evidence while Maura was being mercilessly starved and tortured. It didn't appear relevant to the Detective in regards to how appallingly Brian was abused both mentally and physically as a child, for such a gruesome experience of maltreatment didn't provide him the right to heartlessly punish, nonetheless _murder_, someone else.

"So that gave Brian the right to _kill_ Casey? All because she admitted that she didn't like him, and therefore, _rejected_ him!" Jane challenged, as she inclined forward from her position behind him and thundered her fist loudly upon the steel surface of the table.

Dylan bristled due to the unprecedented action, and he grimaced as the intoxicating and explicit rage radiating off the detective inflicted chills upon his skin.

"Would you do that too, _Dylan_?" Jane taunted condescendingly, her scathing words escaping her lips like a venomous hiss.

"Would _you_ kill a girl for saying no, for telling you that _you_ didn't cut it? Cause in a sick sense, that's exactly what you're_ buddy_ did."

She'd hit a particular nerve as his head frantically shook, his taunt form beginning to slightly tremble.

"I'm not _saying_ it's right!" he retorted in a pained tone; a crimson hue flushing the pale complexion of his face as Jane, whose close proximity was attributed to the fact that she hadn't moved, noticed tears gathering within his chocolate eyes.

"If I'd _known_ what he was gonna do, I would've gotten her the _hell_ out of there! I _wouldn't _have let him touch her, I _swear_!"

Perhaps it was the passion articulated through his wording, or even the fact that upon the conclusion of his statement, his poorly constructed defenses deteriorated and he began to sob, that allowed Jane to realize something that she hadn't exactly gathered from before.

"You loved Kasey too, didn't you?" she proposed, or more or less demanded, yet the pure loathing and patronizing tone that'd crept into her voice earlier had withered, and instead, become softer, tender.

His hazed eyes took peculiar interest in the scratched surface of the steel table in front of him then, the silence that followed almost deafening had it not been spontaneously interrupted by his sniffling.

After quietly gathering himself, the courage welling up within his the pit of his stomach permitted him to once more meet her now considerably calmer expression.

"She and I had been talking for a few months…" Dylan whimpered, his right arm retracting so that that particular hand could remove the excess snot clotting the nostrils of his narrow nose.

"We met through our calculus class last year. I was never good with math, and Kasey, ever so keen, was always willing to help me. We'd meet up to do homework at the library, at least three times a week; normally on Monday's, Wednesdays, and Friday's, when her cross country practices were shorter. We exchanged numbers in case I needed extra help, and… it just kinda went from there…"

Jane's lips formed an empathetic and forlorn smile, the reminiscence of her own high school delusions of '_love_' allowing her to draw a conclusion on how euphoric those days for the two aspiring lovers must've been. She therefore shifted from her position behind him and onto that of the table so that she was beside Dylan; the subtle transition mirroring the change from her vindictive and cruel persona to more of an understanding and supportive one.

"Dylan, did Brain know you both were talking?" Jane asked, and her question was partly answered by a sullen shrug of his broad shoulders.

"I don't think so…" he replied in a rasp tone, his voice thick and heavy from the congestion caused by his tears.

"I knew what he meant to her, and I think, in a strange way, Kasey did too. So we both were very secretive about it. We only met up for homework purposes on campus, and if we did anything else, we did it far from school. I never spoke about it around Brian, and when and if she was able to talk to him, Kasey didn't mention it either..."

If he was intending to continue, he briefly paused to perhaps swallow another disparaged cry crawling up his wind pipe; the exhale escaping his lips in a shallow and shaky breath afterward.

"Detective, I have to admit, it was hard coming here…" Dylan whispered, his voice so fragile and delicate, she had to inch forward in order to understand.

"Brain, despite all that he's done, is my best friend. I took the time to be there for him and listen when no one else would. But I just knew… the minute I saw that flier, it was like someone had slapped me in the face; it was _him_, I had no doubt it. And it hurts so bad, _so_ incredibly bad, to sell him out. But it hurt even worse knowing that _because_ of him, Kasey is dead. I'll never know what it would be like to hold her hand, to kiss her, hold her at night… I'll never know now…"

What was left of his strength crumbled as he imploded into hysterical sobs, his taunt body trembling with such vigor, Jane feared he'd quite literally fall to pieces right there in the interrogation chamber. Yet, despite the compassionate gesture of extending a hand toward the young man for comfort, he instead shook her off, and countered with an intense and tear rimmed gaze.

"Look, _please_, find him, and get him." He hissed, the venom in his tone a horrifying contradiction to that of the sorrow that had consumed him just minutes before.

"He _deserves_ to pay for what he did, not only to Kasey, but to her _mother_, her _family_, her _friends_, the _school_, even _me_. It'll be hard to get by without her now, but I _wouldn't_ be able to live with myself if he got away. _Please_… _please_ get him…"

His selflessness was admirable, and the homicide detective found herself momentarily at a loss for words as she gazed toward him in an astonished manner. However, she quickly regained her composure as nodded briskly at Dylan and provided a sincere smile; a meager gesture that otherwise spoke volumes in regards to her dedication to tame the cruel sadism that was Brain Dean.

"I _promise_ you Dylan, I _will_ get this guy." Jane assured him, her tone as rigidly solid as was her resolve.

"I _won't_ let him get away with what he has done."

Before he could perhaps respond in appreciation of the detectives pledged effort, the door weaned open to reveal Frost; his expression, Jane noted, appearing more relaxed than it had for the past couple of hours.

"Jane." Barry beckoned, and he inwardly grimaced upon the menacing glare the detective was directing toward him.

"I hate to interrupt, but Shelby needs you down in the morgue."

Swallowing the collage of curses crawling up her windpipe, Jane heaved an aggravated sigh as she shifted onto her feet; her weary mind briefly pondering why it was in the past 24 hours she couldn't conduct a _single_ interrogation without being disrupted and hauled out.

"Alright, look, Dylan, this is Detective Frost." Jane announced, her valiant effort in trying to conceal her frustration, however, futile, as she summoned her partner into the room with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"You don't have to repeat anything, just give Brain's home address, where he works, and when the last time you saw him was. You can do that, right?"

Dylan vaguely nodded in understanding as his glazed eyes veered toward Frost in a wary manner.

Before departing and leaving the two men to converse, she briefly patted his shoulder and offered a last encouraging smile.

"Keep your head up Dylan." She whispered softly, her fingers firmly squeezing the fabric of his cashmere sweater to emphasize her assuring words before removing them.

"We'll get him. I promise."

* * *

"Detective, I apologize for having to remove you from your interrogation." Shelby offered sympathetically the minute Jane had strode into the morgue; her pale, cobalt eyes portraying sincere remorse for having to disrupt her colleague's investigation.

The Homicide Detective, however, dismissed her abashed and sorrowful words with a shake of her head, as she now stood opposite from the pathologist at the examination table harboring Kasey's body.

"I _told_ you to call me Jane." She admonished, yet in a mischievous, sarcastic tone, as the corners of her mouth tugged her coarse lips into an impish grin.

"And it's fine. I'm sure whatever you had me called down here for is very important."

Meyers exhaled a relieved breath before concurring with an adamant nod.

"It is indeed Jane." She replied, though the alabaster features of her face slightly grimaced upon being so formal with the detective, regardless of Jane's insistence.

"So far, as you know, we haven't had any conclusive evidence linking our suspect to Kasey's murder; only the words of a friend, which by chance, recognized him in one of the fliers."

Jane's brow piqued in a conjuration of both confusion and amazement.

"How'd you—"the detective drawled, her head tilting in a childish, curious manner toward her colleague.

"Detective Frost filled me in." Shelby responded, inwardly amused at how both humorous and adorable her acquaintances expression was.

"Anyways, I decided that since the tests for toxins came back negative, and the fibers retrieved from the rope binding Kasey's wrists can be found in any of the greater hardware stores in Boston, I decided to reexamine the body. During which—"the pathologist briefly paused as her maroon, latex fingers retrieved a small, translucent container, and held it before the bewildered detective, "—I found this."

Her chocolate eyes narrowed upon the peculiar and unexpected discovery before clasping it with the scarred palms of her hands; her olive skinned features coiling in bewilderment upon the barely noticeable slither of matter inside.

"What is it?"

"It's a pubic hair." Shelby beamed proudly, the vivacious radiance of her smile resonating within her ocean eyes.

"I'm surprised _I_ even found it. Running back through Maura's notes, I managed to discover it just outside the vaginal fold. My conclusion is that the friction of forced sexual intercourse could've resulted in a loose strand, or perhaps at Kasey's resistance, it could've been torn out."

Jane winced at the mental image forming in her mind upon receiving that facet of explicit information, as she returned the forensic evidence back to the pathologist.

"I'm kinda shocked Maura didn't find it first." The detective mumbled confoundedly, to which Shelby herself partly answered with an equally perplexed shrug.

"Doctor Isles _was_ exhausted from having to respond and perform a late night autopsy." The apprentice theorized, and despite how badly the issue still irked her, Jane acquiesced with a disparaged hum.

"Being tired and disoriented, it'd be difficult to find something so small, _especially _particulate matter such as hair."

Jane merely sighed in agreement, despite however blatantly true the fact was in regards to Maura's previous condition the day before.

"Alright, well, were you able to get DNA?" she ventured, and the hope bubbling within her stomach swelled and ruptured as Shelby vehemently nodded in response.

"Yes, the hair still contained the root, which I immediately put into the system and ran through. Thus, is why Detective Frost and I were able to quickly secure an identity."

Suddenly, the once frantic and scattered logical pieces in the suave detectives mind began to weave back together.

"So that's why I was interrupted." Jane acknowledged, a wry grin impaling her lips.

"You knew the identity already, despite the fact that I had a reliable source."

The pathologist's broad shoulders shrugged coyly.

"I figured that Dylan Hall wouldn't lie." She explained in an abashed tone.

"However, I just wanted to be sure. After all, the two of them were good friends, and despite the obligation of yielding a wrongful suspect to the authorities, sometimes, people will lie in order to protect someone else; even if _that's_ a crime in and of itself."

Jane regarded her colleague with astonished eyes, inwardly appraising the young woman's keen intellect and ability to deduce and attach accordingly palpable scenarios and yield results that rivaled her _own_ talents. For the detective was fully persuaded by the fact that if Miss Meyers hadn't meticulously studied to be a pathologist, she would've definitely pursued that of law enforcement, and made a _damn_ good cop.

"Okay, so we know our suspect, and we have evidence which links him to the murder…" the homicide detective reiterated aloud, her body beginning to analytically pace while her fingers massaged the scars upon her palms.

"Now, where do we find _him_?"

* * *

Whew! This concludes chapter 10! Next chapter, Maura _will_ definitely be rescued, you can count on that! And as always, I promise to work as quickly as possible to have that next chapter up.

After receiving everyone's wonderful reviews, it is the general consensus to merely continue the story, rather than pause it and begin a sequel; it's much more logical and keeps the flow. So with that being said, do keep reading and prepare for more chapters in the future.

Speaking of which, it is time to award appreciation where it is due.

A sincere thank you to the following that reviewed:

-rookie802

-fanofhearts

-LittleBlueMonkeySponge

-HBCarolyn

-scdjane

-JadeTakashi

-power2corrupt

-LittleSpooky

-SomethingwithWolves

-saucey181

-neoniloveyou

-fanfic addict

-Hoyee

-cuddycrazy

-Goose197

-LWolf007

-goladyvols

-hello

-heatwave16

-Transylvanian

-darkemberdagger

-TVCrazed

And many more! My God, I could cry in happiness! 121 reviews! I have NEVER in my life received that many! And I adore everyone's opinions! I quite literally read every review I receive, and I admire everything everyone has to say! You all make me so happy; I write for each and EVERY one of you.

This one's for you all! :)

On a completely random note, USA has been fabulous about playing old NCIS episodes that had Kate in them. I have to say, it's both humorous and refreshing to see Sasha Alexander being so brash, sarcastic and tough on that series, compared to the vastly intelligent, quieter Maura on R&I.

Either way, I am not ashamed to admit that I'm still pissed that Kate was killed off in the first place. Now, mind you, Ziva isn't a bad replacement; however, in all honestly, she is NO Kaitlin Todd. Not by a damned long shot.

Any who, it is 1:30 AM and I have to be awake at 9 for class, so I feel some sleep here is well deserved.

Keep an eye out, for I hope to have the next chapter up soon.

All My Love! :D


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